A Unique Specimen
by Josephine Martin
Summary: A BS Story. This is the sequel to Gifts, Given and Received. That story was 27 chapters and started from an AU premise and went even further off canon. Please read 'Gifts' first. There's a new threat to one of the gang, but who and from where?
1. Default Chapter

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Disclaimer: **My characters are Alasdair, Emily, Grianne and maybe some others. I'm afraid Spike, Buffy and Giles belong to someone else. All praise for them is due to Joss Wheddon, Mutant Enemy and anyone else who can make a case for ownership. I can't. The story has no commercial purpose.**

This is the sequel to Gifts, Given and Received. That story amounted to 27 chapters and started from a very AU premise and then it went even further off canon. It would be very much better to read that before starting this one.

I know it's a character flaw, but I really get despondent if I don't get any feedback. I'm not going to say I'll update faster if I get it, because that's not strictly true, but it is true that when I'm feeling good about the story, it's easier to see how things should go. If you do have a comment, good or bad, review or email me at cryptic6464@yahoo.co.uk

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A Unique Specimen

By Josephine Martin

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Chapter 1 - Coming of Age

Emily Stevenson woke up and stretched. The sun was setting, and for once, it sounded quiet outside, no wind or rain was audible. She got up and headed for the bathroom. Her evening shower was over quickly, and she dried her long, dark hair in a towel before returning to her room to dress. Black leather trousers and a red halter top, she decided for today. She smiled as she remembered Alasdair's comment a few days ago. He had said that she modelled her taste in clothes on Buffy. Well, that was hardly surprising. She was the closest she had to a real friend. No, she was a real friend. It was just a pity she was so much older. Not that she looked older, well, not by much, but she was twenty-seven. "And I'm eighteen tomorrow," she thought. Still, she could do worse than model herself on Buffy. I mean, she keeps Spike interested, so, with any luck I'll be able to get Alasdair interested.

She knew Alasdair would be outside. There wasn't a lot of land that went with the croft, but Alasdair kept himself busy growing whatever vegetables would grow on the thin soil. He would be in soon, as the light faded he wouldn't be able to work any more, and he would know she was up. When she first arrived in Scotland, she had tried to keep to human hours, but it didn't work. She felt so sleepy during daylight, and only really felt alive after the sunset. Alasdair needed to be up during the day to see to the outside chores. In the end they compromised. The time between sunset and Alasdair going to bed was their time. They often spent it talking, listening to music, or playing one of the computer games Alasdair had bought. Some evenings they would go over to Buffy's, and other evenings the other two vampires would come here. It was a very small circle to belong to, but it was more like family than anything else.

There were other members of this strange family, but they didn't see them so often. She had hoped that Giles, Jenny and the children would visit for her birthday, but it wasn't possible. Even Grianne had sent apologies. Still, as of midnight, she was an adult. Then she'd show Alasdair what she thought of his silly ideas on how young she was.

She warmed herself a mug of blood, and sat drinking it. Alasdair hadn't come in. That surprised her, so, when she had finished drinking, she put the mug in the sink and went outside. It was May, and the days were stretching towards summer. If truth be told, this was a wonderful place for a vampire in winter. The days were short, and the long, dark nights gave her so much time to explore. Summer was much less fun. Already she was starting to feel the walls of the croft closing in on her, and she was really dreading June and the days that stretched until 10 or 11 at night. Not that she would say a word to Alasdair. He was so good to her. She knew he loved her. He tried to pretend she was like a sister to him, but she knew better. Despite his feelings on the matter, she was not a shy innocent. David, her Sire, had taken her virginity, and Angelus had stripped her of any remaining innocence. 

She heard a car engine, and looked along the road for the car. When Alasdair got out, he seemed rather preoccupied. 

"Where've you been?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. It was, well, nearly, her birthday, and she expected him to make some sort of comment.

"Oh, just had to get some supplies for the garden, and some food. We're out of Weetiebisks again. I can't keep up with Spike and his Weetiebisks. He's taken to adding them to blood on a regular basis, not just at breakfast."

"Oh," she said, her face falling in disappointment. "So, what are plans for tonight?"

"Don't know. I think Buffy and Spike're expecting us. Spike wants me to look over his new contract. I'm not sure what I'm going to see that he can't, but he still wants my opinion."

"Is this with the new publisher?"

"Yes, he says it's a much better deal than he had before. He's going to get a bigger percentage, and there's talk of making his books available on the net. He's very excited about it."

"He should be. I mean, I've seen his books when we've gone to Inverness. There was this big display and everything. It just seems funny that they're written by 'William Stevas'. Oh, and no photos of him on the back cover."

"Have you read one of those books, Emily? You know I said you shouldn't. They're fiction, but they are based on Spike's life with Angelus, so they're not suitable for …"

"Alasdair, I'm not a child. And, in case you've forgotten, I've experienced life with Angelus first hand. No, I haven't read any of them yet, but I'll be eighteen at midnight, and if I want to read the whole series, I will."

Alasdair sighed. He loved Emily so much, but his efforts to let her have the rest of her 'childhood' often backfired. She was very mature for her age, and she had seen too much sadness, but his efforts to shield her from things led to arguments, and the only signs of childishness he ever saw.

Still, he only had himself to blame. Buffy told him, the last time they had a chance to chat, that Emily wasn't a child, despite her years. And he knew his own feelings weren't the feelings you had for a child. Living in close proximity with her for the past year had been difficult. It took every ounce of control he could muster not to put his arms around her and kiss her as he wanted to. But, so far, all they had shared were hugs and some chaste kisses on the cheek. Still, he was getting his own back now. He was pretending he didn't remember it was her birthday, and in reality, there was a party at Buffy and Spike's tonight. The stuff about the contract was just a cover. Even better, Giles, Jenny, Lizzie and little Stephen, and Grianne were all at the other croft getting things ready. His job was to bring her over in a couple of hours.

There was one thing he needed to do before they went out. He headed for his own room, and started to strip off the sheets. Grianne was going to have his bed tonight, and he was planning to sleep on the sofa. He wanted to have everything fresh for her. He ignored the confused and slightly hurt look Emily gave him as he took his bundle of bed linen to the washer. He took the spare sheets and duvet cover from the cupboard and made up the bed again. He had brought in some fresh flowers, and he put them in a vase on the drawer unit. It was a strictly masculine room, and he wanted something to soften the effect. That done, he settled down to watch the television. He had something else on his mind, but he was doing his best not to let it spoil Emily's party. The letter lay in the drawer of his bedside cabinet where he had left it that morning.

The drive to Loch Maree was beautiful. The roads left a lot to be desired, but they stayed close to the coast the whole way, and the views, particularly to someone with vampiric vision were spectacular. Emily often wondered what a girl from Southern California was doing in the far north of Scotland. Everything about the place and the lifestyle was different from what she had grown up with, yet she loved it. She saw it through the eyes of someone who appreciates it as a stranger, but has seen the best of it as known only by a local. Despite this, Emily had begun to wonder whether she could do anything with her life living here. Of course, technically, she was dead, but she preferred not to think about that particular aspect of things.

When they arrived, the house appeared to be in darkness. When she remarked about that, Alasdair dismissed it as a power cut. He opened the door, and immediately lights went on. These weren't the normal room lights, but the room was decked with fairy lights. She looked around in amazement at the multicoloured display. She was so mesmerised by that, that for a few seconds, she didn't notice the extra people in the room. When she spotted the others, she squealed in delight, and ran to greet Grianne. Giles was next, then Lizzie pushed her way forwards.

"Emily," she shouted. "Happy Birthday. Mummy has your present, she wouldn't let me look after it, she said I might lose it." This last was emphasised by a pout that made Emily smile. The pout immediately went as she added, "I've got a brother. Did you know that? He's asleep in the bedroom just now, but Mummy says he'll waken later for a feed."

"Yes, sweetheart, I know you've got a brother. I'm really looking forward to holding him."

"You won't like him if he's sick on you. He's always being sick. It's only a little bit, and it's white like the milk he drinks, but it gets smelly if you don't clean it up."

Emily giggled at the frankness of the child, and eventually stood up to hug Jenny. She was still rather in awe of Giles' wife. She had only met her once before, and was still rather unsure of her welcome. Despite Emily's misgivings, Jenny's hug was warm and her smile seemed genuine. Emily turned at last to Buffy and Spike who were standing as she always imagined them. Their arms were around one another, and they were standing as close as they could. She hugged each of them, and thanked them for arranging everything.

"Not us, Bit," Spike told her. "The party's all Alasdair's doing. All we're doing is hosting it, so he could keep it a surprise."

Buffy led Emily to one of the armchairs, and gave her a present. She opened it, and pulled out a dress. It was one she had admired on her last shopping trip with Buffy, but she knew she had no occasions to wear such a thing. It was a deep crimson, a colour Emily knew suited her dark-haired and fair skinned colouring. It was low cut and had fine straps. It was quite short too, and she fully expected Alasdair to disapprove. She put it to one side as Giles presented her with their gift. It was a tiny box, and inside was a simple bracelet. It was white gold, and had links like tiny flowers. She mumbled her thanks, embarrassed at the attention, and Grianne presented her with another small box. Inside this one were earrings to match the bracelet. Emily got up to hug the donors again, determined to go and put her gifts on. She just wished she had shoes to go with the dress. Before she could leave the room, Alasdair gave her his gift. This proved to be a necklace which matched the other jewellery. She was delighted. Reading her mind, Buffy led Emily into their bedroom to change.

"The shoes are here," Buffy told her. "I was going to wrap them, but I ran out of paper!"

The shoes were perfect for the dress. Exactly the right shade of red, and beautifully delicate. Emily hugged Buffy again, and was left alone to change. She was just wishing she had brought some make up with her, when she noticed her own make up bag on Buffy's dressing table. She had wondered why she couldn't find it earlier. She didn't wear a lot of make up, but a bit of eye shadow, mascara, blusher and lipstick later, she was happier with her appearance. She walked back to the living room, and as she entered, all conversation stopped. She was pleased with the reaction, especially when she saw all the eyes on her move towards Alasdair. He alone hadn't taken his eyes off her. The others were all watching for his reaction. His jaw had dropped, and he seemed incapable of speech.

To fill the gap, the others gathered around her, complimenting her genuinely. While she was distracted, Spike changed the music that was playing. Then, he approached Alasdair, pulling him out of his stupor.

"Listen, mate, go and dance with her. She's not a child any more. Hasn't been since my grandsire got his hands on her. She loves you, and not as a big brother, and I know you don't think of her as a sister."

Alasdair looked at the vampire, hope giving way to resignation.

"No, it's not fair. She doesn't want to be tied to me. I'm too old for her."

"Don't be a bloody pillock. It wouldn't matter if you were twelve years old, you're still going to end up getting older while she stays just as she is. She's already tied to you, whatever you say. She's had her heart broken too many times already, don't you do it to her too. She loves you, and you love her. Do something about it."

The room was small, and despite the small number of people present, it seemed full. A path magically appeared between Emily and Alasdair as he approached. 

"Would you like to dance, Emily?" he asked.

She nodded and shyly whispered, "Yes," as he took her in his arms. His idea of dancing close didn't seem to match hers, as she pulled him closer. As she did, the others present cheered. Buffy watched the dancing couple for a few seconds. She didn't think Alasdair actually noticed the cheer. Still, she didn't see any reason to waste the music. Buffy pulled Spike into her arms, and soon they were dancing too. It didn't take Giles and Jenny too long to join in, and even Lizzie was doing her best to prance around the room.

Emily was happy. She was part of a family, a family that loved her. But best of all, she had Alasdair in her arms, and she was **not** going to let him go. She had realised what was going on with the bed changing earlier, and knew he was planning on sleeping on the sofa. She was planning something else altogether.

There was champagne at midnight, and birthday cake after that. There was a lot of conversation, but most of that escaped Emily and Alasdair. Once they started to dance, neither seemed inclined to stop, and Spike found himself delving into their CD collection for anything suitable. Truth be told, most of the music he chose was actually Buffy's. The Ramones somehow didn't match the mood of the night. And, he had to admit, dancing close to Buffy was the best he could manage given current company.

Stephen surprised them all by sleeping until about one. When he did waken, he made his presence well and truly known. 

"Quite a pair of lungs he's got," Spike commented as Jenny brought the squalling baby through.

"I need to feed him, is that ok here?" she asked unsurely.

Buffy put an arm around Jenny. "Of course. Where would you like to sit? Would the arm chair be best or would you prefer something else.?"

"The arm chair's fine," Jenny reassured her, sitting down and pulling her blouse out of her waistband.

"He likes his food," Giles mumbled, looking slightly embarrassed. Spike clapped Giles on the back. "Not much sense in keeping quiet when he's hungry, now is there?"

Once he was fed and changed, Stephen Giles was passed around the women present. They all cooed and made appropriate noises. When Buffy's turn came, she carried him over to where Spike was standing. "Isn't he beautiful?" she asked.

"Yes, Pet, he's lovely." Spike's hand hovered hesitantly over the baby's face. "He won't bite," Giles reassured him when he saw Spike's reluctance. Spike looked up in surprise. "I .. I know. It's just, I'm not used to being trusted with … I mean, it's not so long ago, when I'd have been the one likely to bite."

Giles' nod expressed his understanding. Spike's hand stroked the soft skin of Stephen's face and the silky fuzz on his head. The next thing he knew, Buffy had put the baby into his arms, and he stood, looking bewildered.

"Just a minute, I don't know anything about babies. What if I hurt him?"

"And what makes you think I know anything about babies?" Buffy retorted. "Not exactly experienced either, you know."

It wasn't much later that Grianne made a performance of yawning and saying what a long day it had been. Alasdair immediately jumped out of Emily's arms, offering to take her home.

"I might as well come too," Emily stated determinedly.

Buffy smiled. That was one young lady who knew what she wanted. And, she might even get it.

Goodnights were brief, and they all agreed to meet the following evening to continue catching up. Soon after the others left, Giles picked up a sleeping Lizzie and carried her to bed. The little girl had kept going longer than anyone had imagined, but had eventually sat down to have some birthday cake, and promptly fallen asleep. It was crowded in the second bedroom. There was the double bed that usually stayed there, Emily had a blow-up bed on the floor and there was a carrycot on the chest of drawers for Stephen. Once the children were settled, the adults gathered to clear up the worst of the debris.

"Well, what do you think?" Buffy asked Spike.

"About?"

"Emily and Alasdair. Do you think she'll have her wicked way with him tonight?"

"I hope so. That poor bloke's been in permanent pain for the past year. He's so in love with the chit, and his misplaced need to protect her has caused too much tension between them."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "I've had Emily in tears a few times because he refused to see she was grown up. It hasn't been easy for her either. She told me what happened with Angelus. Not right away, it's only recently she felt able to talk about it. I know she's a vampire, but she has a soul, and she was only a child then. She grew up quickly."

"So," Jenny joined in. "Was the dress planned? Did she know about it?"

"No," Buffy replied. "She saw it when we went shopping a few weeks ago. She tried it on for a laugh, but didn't buy it. I went back later and got it. Alasdair needed a kick in the pants to realise she really is a woman now. And, he could hardly doubt it in that dress."

"Indeed not," Giles agreed.

Later, in bed, Spike and Buffy lay together in a post-coital haze. Next door they heard the rather subdued sounds of another couple making love. Buffy started to giggle. "Do you think they heard us?" she asked.

"Sure of it, Pet." Spike told her. "Wonder if they'll notice the next time?"


	2. Chapter 2 Early Warnings

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Chapter 2 - Early Warnings

Grianne had to entertain herself for much of the next day, as there was no sign of Emily and Alasdair. It was fortunate she found some films in the video collection in the croft she really wanted to see. Of course, she had to keep the volume a little louder than she normally liked it, but it was raining outside, and she didn't feel like getting soaked to the skin.

Despite everything, she was happy for the couple in the other room. Emily deserved some happiness. Grianne would have been happy to take Emily to live with her after the whole Sinistra business, but Emily had been drawn to Alasdair from the beginning. And Alasdair deserved happiness too. He was a good man, and Grianne thought there were too few of them in the world these days. 

She was thinking about her own future. She had to go back to London next day, and almost immediately after that, she had to go back to Ireland. The Council had something urgent that needed investigating. She was surprised, as only something major and urgent would result in her having to travel away from work in London that she knew was important. She didn't have any details yet, but had been told that it would all become apparent when she arrived.

Other things at the Council were worrying her though. She had been around long enough to see several changes in the power structure. For the past few years, those in senior positions seemed to be have been men of integrity and she had been comfortable. Some recent appointments had changed that. There was nothing so far to actually worry about, but she had a nagging feeling that things were moving in the wrong direction.

At last, Grianne heard movement and knew the shower was running. She was enjoying 'Local Hero', and the scenery looked so familiar to the area she found herself in. At last Alasdair appeared, looking rather sheepish.

"Sorry, seem to have overslept," he apologised.

"No need," Grianne replied. "I've been catching up on some films."

Emily appeared ten minutes later. She didn't look sheepish, she looked triumphant. Grianne smiled at her happiness, but didn't comment. She suspected there would be comments enough when Buffy and Spike arrived later. They were known for a remarkably relaxed attitude to conversations about sex. She just hoped that Spike particularly would tone down his comments a bit. Alasdair looked like he might run if things got too explicit.

When the others arrived, it was obvious that Spike had either learned tact from somewhere or had been thoroughly warned. One look at Buffy's determined expression suggested the latter.

Without the excitement of a party to keep her awake, Lizzie fell asleep early, and had been left on Grianne's bed, sleeping soundly. Conversation moved to the Council.

"I'm off to Ireland in a couple of days. The reason's so hush hush, I don't even know. Just that there's something big coming up." Grianne's expression made it clear she thought something strange was going on.

"Did you know I've been asked to do some research too? Freelance." Giles asked. When the others indicated they hadn't, he continued. "Sounds like something big too. They want me to go to Malta. Some artefacts found in a church there need translating, and they've asked me to go."

Alasdair pulled a letter out of his pocket. "Funny. This arrived yesterday. I'm being recalled to London." He turned to Emily, his face an apology. "I didn't want it to spoil your birthday, that's why I didn't say anything before. We'll talk about it later. If you want me to, I'll resign from the Council. I know you want to stay here."

Emily looked at him and the earnest expression on his face. "It's ok, Alasdair. I think I might like London. I've been thinking. I never finished High School. I know, you've kept me working on things at home, but it might be good to do something, official, you know? Wouldn't that be easier somewhere big, like London?"

Alasdair looked at her in surprise. She had never mentioned wanting to be anywhere else. He made up his mind to talk to her later, when they were alone. Then he remembered how little talking they had done the previous night. Still, he would have to try.

"Yes," he answered. "You could go to night school. If you were under sixteen, you would have to go to school, and that would be difficult. Lots of sixteen year olds leave school and go to college to do their exams, just like lots stay in school and do them. It'd be different from what you've been doing. The exam system in Scotland is different from in England, but I'm sure you'd cope with it. You're a bright girl. You could do some GCSEs and then maybe A levels. If you want, maybe you could even do a degree after that. The Open University, they allow you to work from home, so you could probably avoid being out in the daytime. And then, London has the Underground, so you'd be able to travel around a bit even during the day. You're right, you'd have much more freedom. Why didn't you say anything before?" He looked mystified.

"I am happy here," she started. "I mean it, I love it here. It's just, recently, I've been thinking, I'd like to do something with my life. I'm not sure what. But, more than anything else, I want to be with you, so, I kept quiet."

Alasdair looked rather stunned at that.

"So," Buffy tried to move the conversation on. "There's something big happening, and no one knows what it is."

"Well," Grianne replied. "Someone knows what's happening, but they're not telling us. Thing is, things're changing. You remember Michael?"

"Michael Barrat?" Spike's ears pricked up. "What's that bastard doing? Counting paperclips? S'about all he's good for."

"Well," Grianne took a deep breath. "Michael's been named number 2 in Research."

Giles went red. "You have got to be kidding. He's useless. How has he managed to worm his way into a promotion?"

"Well," Grianne explained, "he's been changing history a bit. I submitted my report on what happened in Sunnydale, but his report covered an earlier time. He claims that Emily got too involved with Spike and Buffy. That we were all under some kind of thrall, and that we were responsible for Emily's death. I don't think his report was taken seriously until Lucien Spencer took over at the top. I thought he was a worrying appointment at the time. He was always close to Quentin Travers. I think Travers was actually grooming him to take over from him. He has no field experience, and a very 'old school' attitude."

"Who's number one in Research now?" Giles asked. "Is it still Josh Prendegast?"

"Yes," Grianne replied. "But, Josh is retiring in a couple of weeks. The word is that Michael's going to take over."

The result of that was a stunned silence. Giles was stony-faced. "You remember the experiments I told you about, the ones that involved draining vampires? When they were done, Spencer's father was number one in Research. When the Council's attitude to that type of research changed, he was retired. All very quiet, full pension and everything. I have to say, that I'm very concerned about these developments. I never did trust Lucien Spencer. I heard from friends that he was always known as 'Snakey' at school. They meant that he was always in the middle of trouble, but always managed to slither away before he was caught."

The conversation was interrupted at that point by Stephen's demands for food. Jenny started to move towards the carry cot, but was beaten there by Grianne who picked up the little boy. The resulting fracturing of the company led to a several smaller groups. The first clustered around Stephen and his mother, and included Giles and Grianne. The second included Buffy and Emily, and they went to the kitchen to organise some snacks. The third included Spike and Alasdair.

"So?" Spike asked.

Alasdair looked embarrassed, but tried to pretend he didn't know what Spike meant. "What?" he replied.

"Don't play the innocent with me. Last night, would it be fair to say that things between you and Emily took a step forward?"

"Well," Alasdair's feet shuffled as he tried and failed to meet Spike's gaze. "I suppose you could say that."

Spike's response was to clap his friend on the back, almost sending the drink he was holding crashing to the floor. "'Bout time, mate. Judging by the way she was hanging on to you when we arrived, she's not regretting it, is she?"

"No, she seems …. Happy. It's really very surprising. I mean, I'm not what you'd call much of a catch. I'm older than she is, and …"

"And she doesn't care. Look, I know more about this than you give me credit for. Me and Buffy …"

"Don't give me that. You and Buffy are meant to be together. Never mind the prophecy and all that. You're great together."

"Doesn't mean I don't still wake up beside her and wonder how I got so lucky. Doesn't mean I deserve her. I don't. I never did. The things I've done, killing and the like. And she, well, she's special. Like Emily, Chosen and all that. You don't have the past I have to live down. Look, mate, whatever you do, don't question it. Enjoy it. If there's one thing I've learned recently, it's that you need to make the most of things while you can. I still can't believe the way Buffy looked after me when I was, well, the way I was. I was bloody helpless, and she could have just dumped me, or even staked me. Instead she fed me, dressed me, held me. I know you think you're a lucky bloke right now, but, truth is, I've got you beat."

There was silence as both contemplated their situation. Spike eventually broke the silence. "So, you and Emily're going south?"

"Looks like it. I need to make sure she's happy with things, but she's right. She'll have much more freedom in a large city. And she can finish her education."

"Don't you think it's funny that you, Grianne and Giles are all on the move at the same time?"

"Well, Grianne and Giles are going away, I'm going to London."

"Yes, but I'm betting you'll find yourself with a top secret reason to head off somewhere yourself. I don't trust Michael Barrat, and it seems like a coincidence that the only people who can refute his version of things are being carefully put out of the way."

Alasdair looked thoughtful. "You may be right. So, should I resign?"

"What, and never find out what he's up to? I've got a better idea. Go to London, sort yourself out somewhere to live, but make sure there's plenty of room. I can help cash-wise if you need it. When you're ready, Buffy and I'll come down and bring Emily with us. I hope they won't expect that. And, if you're called off somewhere, we can keep an eye on the Bit."

Alasdair grinned in relief. "I'd feel a lot happier with that," he admitted. "But, what'll Buffy think of this? I mean, this is home."

"Buffy's the Slayer. I mean, I know there's another one now, but she still thinks that way. If there's something that needs doing, she's going to want to be involved. And, if she's involved, I am too."

The two women were working together, preparing a salad. Buffy hadn't said anything, but kept giving her companion sideways glances. In the end, Emily made a sound which could only be called a growl.

"Fine friend you are," she complained.

"What do you mean?" Buffy laughed.

"First time I've got some news, you're not asking."

"News, you've got news?"

"You know I have. I mean, even if you couldn't tell otherwise, you must smell the difference."

"Smell, oh, you mean the fact that you smell of Alasdair?"

"Duh, of course I mean that."

"Well, if you know I can smell it, why would you think I'd want to ask?"

"Buffy, you're being deliberately obtuse. Don't you want to know anything about it?"

Buffy's grin disappeared. "Only what you want to tell me," she said seriously.

"I know," Emily agreed. "It's just, I love Alasdair, and I wanted him to love me. And he does, and for the first time, we were together, like I've wanted for a long time. Thing is, I was scared. When it came to it, I was scared. I mean, with David, everything was good at the time, but afterwards I knew it was all a sham. And, with Angelus, well, I'd rather forget that. I suppose I was scared that Alasdair would be different after. I mean, I knew he wouldn't, but I was still scared he would, does that make sense?"

"Oddly, it does. You know he loves you, really loves you, but you were still scared he'd change his mind after you slept with him. I'd call that perfectly normal paranoia. So, everything was ok?"

"Well, at first, I was a bit tense. Mainly, I was trying so hard not to let Alasdair know I was scared. Because he'd never understand why I was scared. He'd think it was his fault, or that I had changed my mind, or something. But, then, I realised he was scared too. I could smell it, and I knew I had the advantage. And I realised that if he was scared, he was vulnerable too. He was afraid just like I was, and with both of us it's just that it's so important. He loves me like I love him. Once I got over that, it was, well, amazing. For all I thought David knew what he was doing, last night with Alasdair was better. I think it's because he was genuinely trying to find out what I wanted, not going through his records of previous times, and trying out what worked with someone else. You know?"

"Yeah, I understand. So, no regrets?"

"The only regret I have is that I didn't just force his hand a year ago. It would've been so easy. I mean, I could just have slipped into bed with him."

"You'd have given him a heart attack doing that. Better the way it happened."

"Better than better. It was perfect," Emily concluded. 


	3. Chapter 3 Separating the Friends

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Thanks to everyone who has reviewed or commented by email. All comments are welcome. I hope to get another chapter up before next weekend, but there will be a delay after that as real life intervenes to curb my alter ego. Hopefully, updates should be regular again from the beginning of November.

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Chapter 3 - Separating the Friends 

Grianne left the next morning with promises to keep in touch. Giles and Jenny stayed another day before they too had to travel south. Within a week, Alasdair had followed. At Alasdair's insistence, Emily moved in with the other two vampires. She wasn't happy about it, but he had been so unhappy at the prospect of her being alone that she had eventually given in. She was going to miss him so much anyway, and she didn't want him worrying unnecessarily.

Fortunately, that state of affairs didn't last too long, as within a fortnight of Alasdair going to London, they got word that he had found an ideal flat. Knowing that a move was imminent, Buffy and Spike were largely packed already, so within a couple of days, the three vampires bundled their belongings into Spike's Land Rover and headed for London.

The flat was in Swiss Cottage, close to the underground station. It was in the basement of what had originally been a rather grand house and it had three bedrooms, a kitchen, largish lounge and two separate shower rooms. There was also a small garden to the back with tall trees at sides and the end. This, coupled with the height of the building itself meant that there was little direct sunlight at any time of the day. The street outside was tree-lined, and it was obvious that on all but the sunniest days, it would even be possible for a prudent vampire to get to the underground station in daylight.

The biggest problem was that parking was at a premium in the street outside. There was no dedicated parking, and little room.

Alasdair had already moved into one of the bedrooms, and Emily approved his choice. Their room had high level windows that looked out into the garden, and a garden view, even if you had to stand on your toes to see it, for a vampire, was a real treat.

In County Wicklow, Grainne was spending her days in a dark office in the basement of the local library. She had arrived to several crates full of papers, and had been told that the events she was investigating were included. Her attempts to have someone help her sort through the papers to find only those relevant had fallen on deaf ears. It seemed that someone had pulled every document and newspaper report for the past hundred years which could arguably refer to witchcraft of some sort and placed it in random order in several large packing crates. To make matters worse, the languages included not just Irish Gaelic and English, but Latin, Greek, and several other languages Grianne didn't actually recognise. She tried to report the state of things to her boss in London, but was told in no uncertain terms, that her job was extremely urgent and important, and that she had better get to work.

Giles flew off to Malta in higher spirits. He was always sad to leave his family at home, but he had never visited Malta before, and had spent a couple of days finding out about the history of the island. What he found fascinated him, and he was determined to spend his spare time learning as much as he could.

He arrived at his hotel in Valetta, and found instructions for him from the Council. He was directed to contact a Mr. Moretti, who had an office in the old capital, Rabat, and he would have to hire a car to go there. He made the necessary arrangements, and with great excitement, headed inland the next morning.

He arrived at the address he had been given, only to be given another address. He followed a paper trail of addresses all morning, becoming angrier and angrier as he did so. It was hot and he was dressed as the Council considered appropriate - a suit with a white shirt and a tie. It was three in the afternoon when he was finally given an address in Valetta, and with a certain amount of relief, he headed back to the coast.

The building was an unprepossessing one close to the harbour. He climbed some dingy stairs and was admitted to an office. At last, he was admitted to the inner office and was greeted by his quarry.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Giles. I am so glad to meet you at last. I was expecting you this morning, but perhaps you wished to spend some time exploring our lovely island before you got down to business?"

Giles was incensed at the implication that he had put pleasure before business, but managed not to react visibly.

"Mr. Moretti, it's good to meet you, too. In fact, it's something of a relief considering I've spent the rest of the day on a wild goose chase in Rabat after the message that was left at my hotel."

"Oh, you were sent to Rabat? I'm so sorry. I'm sure I told the Council I had moved to Valetta, quite sure. But, no matter. I'm sure you enjoyed your little jaunt this morning. I'm afraid you may have to spend some more time getting to know our little country. You see, the artefact you're here to look at has recently been impounded by the Government. There has been some suggestion that foreign interests wish to remove it from Malta, and it has therefore been taken to a place of safety. We are, of course, fighting this move in the courts. It is imperative that such an important find be available for the scientific community to study. I am therefore sad to report that I cannot take you to begin your study. I hope that in a few days, …"

"I see. Do you envisage it taking longer than a few days?"

"No, no, I should think a few days, a week at most, and you will be able to begin your work."

"And you'll contact me when you hear something?"

"Of course, Mr. Giles, of course."

At that moment, Mr. Moretti's secretary called to tell him his three o'clock appointment had arrived, and it was obvious that Giles was supposed to leave. He did so with relief, thinking happily about a cool shower in his hotel room. 

After he had showered, he made two calls. The first was to Jenny to let her know he was well. The second was to the Council to report on the delay. He managed to speak to the secretary to the assistant assistant director of the Council who told him his comments would be reported back. He was advised, however, that if it was urgent that he examine the artefact, it would be best for him to remain in Malta while the legal details were sorted out.

In London, Buffy and Spike moved into Alasdair's flat and made themselves comfortable. Emily was delighted to see Alasdair again, and the two of them headed for their bedroom, not to be seen for the best part of a day.

Spike spent the first evening showing Buffy the sights. They took the tube and travelled around. It was like having a professional tour guide. Not only could Spike tell her about London in its current state, he could also tell her how it was when he was alive. They walked arm in arm along streets and down alleys. The night was mild, and they were lost in the crowds of other young people out for the evening.

"You know, Spike, I don't think you've spoken so much for a long time."

"Is that a complaint? I mean, I can't remember you ever telling me I don't talk enough before. Made a few comments along the lines of 'shut up', especially when you were losing an argument, but …"

He was rewarded by an elbow in the ribs. 

"Remind me not to talk to you again for a while. I just meant, last year, and it's good to have the talk back. And the time is probably fast approaching when I'll be back to asking you to shut up. So, why don't you just kiss me?"

Spike complied, and pulled her into his arms.

A while later, they had finished their sightseeing for the night, and were heading back towards a tube station, walking close to the river. It was obvious to Buffy that Spike had something on his mind.

"Ok, what's up? You're brooding, and you don't normally brood, well, not much."

"I **never** brood. I just don't." Spike was actually looking hurt.

"Well, it looks like brooding, but whatever it is, I just want to know what's worrying you. You're not still worried about the Council of Watchers, are you? I mean, Alasdair doesn't think there's anything to worry about."

"Yes, I know. Look, Alasdair's a great guy, good friend and all that. But, he's just too nice."

"How can someone be too nice?"

"Easy. He always sees the good side of things, of people. I mean, within hours of meeting me, he trusted me. Now, that didn't exactly show good judgement. He's not going to see a plot until it bites him in the arse."

"Oh, and you can?"

"Yeah, I'm evil. It takes evil to see it in others. There's something going on, and I just want to know what it is."

"Look, I know Grianne said things weren't going too well in Ireland, but Giles seemed very excited about things. You know Giles, give him something old and dusty, and he's all, animated. I just wonder how Jenny keeps his interest. I mean, not all that old, and I've never seen a speck of dust on her."

Spike gave her a look that said more than words could. It started at her toes and travelled up her body, lingering on several areas on the way up.

"I think I know what keeps Giles interested." He was openly leering by the time he reached her face. After six and a half years with Spike, Buffy was still glad she couldn't blush. Even so, she could feel the heat rising in her.

"Home?" she asked.

"Home" he agreed.

When Monday morning came along, Alasdair headed off for the Council offices, looking forward to his new assignment. Spike had spent a proportion of the weekend trying to impress upon his friend that there was something going on, and that he was best placed to find out what. He returned that evening with little information beyond the fact that he had been given his own office, and spent the day catching up on a year's worth of memoranda on subjects ranging from stationery supplies to booking annual leave.

A week later, nothing had changed with Alasdair. He'd managed to finish the general memoranda, and had been given some research to do, but the subject matter implied it was neither important nor urgent. He was becoming more and more demoralised, and he confided to Buffy that if it hadn't been for Emily he would have resigned.

The news from Giles was similarly disturbing. He had been cooling his heels for a week, and had nothing to show for it beyond a bit of a suntan. 

"Not that I haven't enjoyed immersing myself in the history of the island, of course," he told Buffy on the phone. "It really is fascinating. The islands changed hands on a regular basis throughout history, and each culture left its own mark. But I came here to do a job. I've tried to get in touch with my contact here, but he's permanently 'in conference'. I've tried to persuade the Council that I should return to London, but they are adamant that I'm needed here. They claim to be expecting the court hearing to be taking place any day, and want me to be able to testify to the international importance of the find."

This news was coupled with the fact that Grianne seemed to have disappeared. They had called her hotel and been told that she had checked out. She certainly hadn't returned to her London flat, and Alasdair had enquired at the Council only to be told she was in Ireland on important business. In the end, it was Jenny who had the first news. She had a telephone number for Grianne's only living family, a sister who still lived in Ireland. A phone call to Siobhan had elicited the news that Grianne had written to her, and the letter was read over the phone.

__

Dear Siobhan,

I've been giving a lot of thought recently to my life. I realise that I haven't really achieved anything, and I've decided on a change of course. I'm not yet sure what I want to do, and intend to do some travelling. They always say that travel broadens the mind, and there are so many places in the world that I want to see.

Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I've got some savings, and I'll be in touch again when I know what I'm going to do.

Love,

Grianne.

At that point, Spike's paranoia was being shared by the other occupants of the house. Spike and Buffy were considering travelling to Ireland to find out what had happened to Grianne, but the next day, their plans were changed by another call from Jenny.

Buffy answered the phone to find a very distressed woman on the other end.

"It's Giles," she began, desperately trying to curb the rising panic she was feeling.

"What is, Jenny? What happened? Is he hurt?"

"No, I don't think so. He's been … arrested."

"**Arrested?" **Buffy's voice was shrill with disbelief. "What for?"

"He's been accused of trying to smuggle antiquities out of Malta! Giles would never, … He's a great believer in studying things in situ. He wouldn't .."

"I know, Jenny, I know. What does the Council say?"

Jenny was silent for a few seconds as she tried to keep her temper under control.

"They say, and I quote, 'The Council of Watchers in no way condones the smuggling of antiquities. If Mr. Giles has been arrested on such a charge, it seems likely that there is evidence to support the charge. Mr. Giles is a freelance researcher, not an employee of the Council, and therefore not entitled to legal representation paid for by the Council. I can only suggest you find a suitable solicitor.'"

It was Buffy's turn to be silent. Spike had come to the phone as the call progressed, the half he heard worrying enough.

"Look, Jenny, do you want us to come out? Would you feel better if we came for a visit?"

"Y .. yes, I would. Could you please?"

"Of course we can. Spike and I will be there later. I don't know about Alasdair and Emily, I'll speak to them before we leave. I know it's easier said than done, but take it easy, Jenny. We'll get a lawyer, and Giles'll be home in no time."

Buffy hung up the phone and explained the details of the call to Spike and Emily. Spike's reaction was predictable.

"I knew it. It's the Council. First Grianne disappears, then Giles. There's something going on. Where's Emily?"

"She's gone out. She wanted to do some shopping for Alasdair. I think she's trying to change his image a bit."

"When's she due back?"

"I don't know, Spike. She's loving the freedom so much, I haven't had the heart to try to keep her in. And, I mean, she's in a public place. You know, she's gone to the mall. The Council won't try anything there, will they?"

"I hope not," Spike conceded. "Look, Alasdair's due back within the hour, so Emily will probably be back soon. Let's discuss things with them, and then we can head out to Giles'. How is Jenny anyway? How's she bearing up?"

"Not good," Buffy replied. "She sounded frantic. What do you think the Council want?"

"Don't know, Pet, I really don't. It just worries me that Barrat's been given the Research job. I'm worried he's gunning for you or Emily. You know, souled vampires? Pretty unusual. Of course, I should be ok, not having a soul any more."

"Yeah, and that really made a difference, didn't it?"

"Didn't know I had one for the first five years, can't say I miss it now. What can I say? I think they're overrated."

Alasdair rang an hour later to tell them he'd be late. He was as surprised as the others that Emily hadn't returned, but didn't seem worried. As a result, Buffy and Spike decided to head out to see Jenny.

The drive took the best part of an hour. Traffic was heavy on the M1 "Isn't it always?" Spike complained. The Giles home was in Bedfordshire. It was within commuting distance of London, but far enough out to have a more open feel than the city itself. 

Jenny was at the door before they even got out of the car. Her worry was evident on her face, her eyes red rimmed and her face as pale as Buffy's. She hugged both vampires as they came in, and took them into the lounge. She filled them in on the calls she'd made since she spoke to Buffy. She had managed to engage a solicitor, but he was unable to do anything until the next morning. His first step then would be to find Giles representation in Malta. 

Several hours and a significant quantity of alcohol later, Buffy managed to get Jenny off to bed, and she and Spike made themselves comfortable in the guest room.


	4. Chapter 4 Retribution

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Chapter 4 - Retribution

Emily was surprised when she got back and found the flat empty. There was a note from Buffy and Spike explaining that something had happened, and that they were going to see Jenny. She was worried, but she was also hungry, so she went to warm some blood while she waited for Alasdair. She had some surprises for him, and she couldn't wait to show him what she'd bought. 

Afterwards, she didn't know how they had crept up on her. Her senses were that unique blend of Slayer and vampire, and she didn't think anything could manage that trick. All she knew, was that she was taking her mug of blood from the microwave and then felt a sharp pain in her back. Then all she was aware of was the sound of her mug splintering on the hard floor and everything going dark.

It was very late when Alasdair got back. The job that had to be finished that night had taken longer than anyone had expected. Then, there was an incident on the tube line, and there were no trains. He had tried to call and let Emily know what was happening, but there was no reply. He was concerned by that, but decided she must have decided to go with Buffy and Spike. He was surprised by the wrench he felt when he considered the possibility that she had chosen to spend the night away from him.

That wrench was nothing compared with the one he felt when he got back to the flat. One of the windows had been forced. He ran through the house, calling for Emily but got no reply. The last room he checked was the kitchen, and the shattered mug and blood splattered floor caused his stomach to lurch sickeningly. He immediately recognised the mug as Emily's favourite, and he knew she was gone.

Spike was pulled from a deep sleep by the sound of his mobile. He jumped up to answer it before it could waken Jenny or the children. It took several attempts before he could make sense of what Alasdair was telling him.

Buffy was only aware that Spike had left the bed. She felt his lack, and opened her eyes blearily to find out what had happened. She knew by the look on his face that it was serious. 

"They've taken Emily. I knew it. I knew we shouldn't leave her there tonight. If I'd any idea Alasdair was going to be that late, …"

"What's he doing?"

"Going out of his mind is what he's doing. Look, Love, I need to go back. State he's in, he might do something stupid. He stopped me a time or two when Angelus had you. I owe him. And, that doesn't start to account for the fact that I care about Emily. You stay here with Jenny. She needs support, too. I'll be in touch as soon as I can. We need to find her. If Michael's got her, I don't want to think about what he might try."

Buffy nodded. She stood up, letting the sheet fall off her as she did so. She put her arms around him, feeling the tension in his body, and knowing hers was similarly rigid. "Be careful. I almost lost you before, don't do that to me again."

"I'm always careful, except when it's an end of the world situation, of course. The Council might do a lot of things, but I don't think they'd risk that. And you, do the same. Look after Jenny and the kids, but don't take any chances. I'll be in touch."

There was no sign of Alasdair when Spike got back to Swiss Cottage. Swearing vehemently about stupid humans, Spike headed back to his car. The only place he could think that Alasdair would have gone was the Council, so that was where he headed.

The headquarters of the Council of Watchers was a beautifully appointed building in Mayfair. It was surrounded by a myriad of foreign embassies, and didn't look remotely out of place. Unfortunately, because of the area, there were severe parking restrictions to ensure that security was not compromised. Spike briefly considered parking illegally, but decided against it when he realised how close dawn was. The last thing he needed was to be making a swift exit as the sun rose and finding his car had been towed away. The space he found was further away than he wanted, and he went the rest of the way on foot. He felt relief when he spotted Alasdair's Vauxhall parked a hundred yards from the front entrance.

He had no idea how he was going to get into the building. Normal security shouldn't really be a problem. Spike had to admit he had considerable experience when it came to breaking and entering. He certainly had no qualms about breaking in, and if he had to hit a few people, he could certainly live with that. What worried him, was the possibility that there was protection specifically aimed at vampires.

Every nerve was tense as he approached. He walked past, checking for anything obvious at the front door. There were lights on in the foyer, but no sign of life. He checked his watch. It was 2 o'clock. He checked for open windows and spotted one on the first floor to the side of the building. There was nothing on the ground floor, so he decided to make do. There was a tree fairly close to the window, and he climbed it, checking for sounds of occupation. He heard none, so he crept as close to the window as he could without falling out of the tree.

Gingerly, he stood up, grasping a branch above him. He pushed off as hard as he could, managing to grasp the window ledge. He pulled himself up, and into the room.

It was dark. Spike stayed still, every sense on maximum, waiting for any sign there was supernatural protection. When nothing happened, he checked out the room.

It was an office, of the type probably used by clerical staff. There were a number of desks, computers and filing cabinets. There was nothing of apparent interest, so he crept towards the door. The corridor outside seemed deserted, so he headed out. From comments Alasdair had made, he knew the Research department was located in the basement, so he headed for the stairs and went down.

As he reached the basement, he heard a scuffle from somewhere ahead. He froze, listening for anything that would indicate the reason for the noise. There were no words, so he headed towards the sound, keeping to the shadows in the darkened corridor. He came to an intersection, and peered cautiously around the corridor. What he saw was Michael Barrat, talking to someone Spike didn't know.

"What happened?" Barrat was asking.

"We had an intruder. I caught him, but he kicked me and got away."

"Where was he?"

"He was just outside your office. I nabbed him from behind, then called in to security. After that, he hit me, and was gone."

"Did you recognise him? Who was it?"

"No, he was tall, over six feet, but I only saw his back. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, and the hood was pulled up. He didn't say anything."

"Do you think he saw anything?"

"No, he was trying to pick the lock of your office. I'd bet he hadn't found anything."

"Ok, don't worry. Security's on it. He'll be picked up before he can leave the building."

With a nod of relief, Barrat dismissed the other man. Spike found a doorway to hide in as the other man passed him. When the corridor was clear, Spike checked around the corner again. By the looks of it, Barrat had gone into his office, so Spike approached carefully. He opened the door quietly, intending to confront Barrat. The room was empty, and there was no sign of another exit.

Spike went to enter the room, then thought better of it. His priority was to make sure Alasdair got out safely. Solving the mystery of a disappearing Watcher could wait. Realising Alasdair must have gone in one of two possible directions, Spike chose one at random.

There was more activity than before. The security alert had resulted in guards patrolling in pairs. Spike was able to keep out of sight, and he thanked his century of skulking in the dark. He finally spotted a hooded man ahead, and he heaved a sigh of relief. He crept up behind the man who was watching the opposite direction, putting his hand across his mouth.

Alasdair relaxed visibly when he spotted who had caught him. By means of a rather contrived sign language, Spike intimated that he had a way out, and led the way, using his preternatural hearing to keep out of the way of trouble. They made their way back to the first floor, and the room with the open window without any problems. Alasdair took one look at the drop from the window and visibly blanched. Spike shook his head at is friend, then picked him up in a fireman's lift. Alasdair started to object, but Spike told him to shut up, adding, "I need to keep my hands free, so you'll have to hold on."

Alasdair complied, and Spike managed to leap from the window, grabbing a branch of the tree on the way down. When the branch had reached it's lowest point due to the weight it now bore, he let go, rolling as he landed and regretting the fact that Alasdair fell on top of him.

They headed for Alasdair's car without speaking. Once they arrived, Spike let rip.

"Bloody pillock! What the hell did you think you were doing? You don't go looking around that place in the middle of the night on your own. Unarmed. We don't need you to disappear too. Now, are you going to get straight home, or do I have to hit you and take you home?"

Alasdair managed to look a little sheepish. His shoulders slumped under his friend's onslaught, but he nodded. "I'll go home. It's just, if she's there, I've got to get to her. She'll be scared, and I thought I'd find out if Barrat's involved. Made a mess of it, though, 'spose I'm not made for a life of breaking and entering."

"Bloody right," Spike agreed.

"It's just, I've got to do something."

Alasdair looked ready to crumple and Spike put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I know, mate, I know. Let's head back, and we'll work out how to do this. Give me your keys. I'm driving."

Alasdair complied, and headed for the passenger seat. There was silence as they drove back. Spike did a mental inventory and decided there was probably enough scotch in the flat to take the edge off Alasdair's misery as long as he didn't have any.

It was nearly dawn before a fairly drunk Alasdair finally fell asleep on the sofa. With a sigh of relief, Spike made his way to bed. There were too many problems to solve, and he didn't know where to start. He just hoped something would come to him in the morning.

* * *

There may be another chapter out this week, but I doubt it. As of the weekend, there will be nothing until the end of October. Sorry, just RL interfering. If you put me on your author alerts, you'll get an email when I update. (I'm paying for support services, so it doesn't matter if you are.) __

As always, feedback is appreciated. 


	5. Chapter 5 The Morning After the Night B...

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Chapter 5 - The Morning After the Night Before

It took Spike several minutes of fumbling around in the clothes he had shed the night before, before he found his phone. It had been ringing constantly during that time, and he was surprised whoever was calling hadn't given up. When he finally found it, he heard Buffy's voice, tense with anger.

"Spike, is that you?"

When he grunted an affirmative, she replied. "How long does it take you to pick up your phone? I was worried. Thought something'd happened to you."

"Sorry, Love, s'just, I had to find the bloody thing first. We were kinda late last night, and I left it in my pocket, then couldn't find my jacket. So, how's Jenny?"

"Bearing up. She's waiting to hear from her solicitor. She wants to come to London. That's where the solicitor's based, and she thinks it'd be easier to deal with him in person. Lizzie's on half term from the end of the week, anyway. How's that sound?"

"Great." Spike's voice showed his relief. "I think it'd be better for us to be together if possible. I don't like the way we're split up. That's what the Council wants."

"Good. So, how's Alasdair?"

"Still sleeping, I hope. Stupid git launched a one man raid on the Council offices last night."

"He what?"

"You heard. I'll tell you the story when you get here."

"So, he went out and came back by himself?"

"Not exactly, Pet. I had to go and get him."

The silence on the other end was thick enough to cut with a knife. Spike held the phone further away from his ear in advance of what he knew was coming.

"And that's your definition of being careful? Going to the Council of Watchers? How stupid could you get? I'm just amazed you got out at all. There must be something in that building to keep it safe from vampires. I've got to go now, 'cos Jenny wants to talk to me, but you'd better believe we're going to have a serious talk about this when I get back."

She hung up after that, and Spike was surprised that the sound made him jump a little. He and Buffy had had arguments over the years, but they hadn't been over anything major. He hadn't ever heard her so upset as she was now. He cringed when he thought about the continuation of their chat. If she decided to get physical with him, he knew he didn't really stand a chance. Her combined vampire and Slayer strength were more than a match for his own despite his greater experience. Even more worrying was the prospect of a lack of other physical activities. On balance, he decided he would prefer it if she just hit him a few times.

Putting Buffy out of his mind for the moment, Spike pulled on his jeans then went to look for Alasdair. He was lying as he had left him, still sound asleep. Spike headed for the kitchen and put on some coffee. He normally preferred tea in the morning, but judged that Alasdair might still need the caffeine. He put on some toast too, judging that Alasdair might not fancy anything more after polishing off a significant proportion of a bottle of whisky in the early hours.

Emily's first thought when she opened her eyes was that it was dark. Not so dark that she couldn't see, but darker than she was used to. She was lying on a hard, narrow bed. When she tried to get up, it became obvious that she was chained to it. With a good deal of shuffling, she managed to pull herself to a sitting position, and looked around. She was in a cell of some kind, surrounded by bars. There was nothing to see beyond the bars, just an empty corridor. She thought back to the night before, trying to work out what had happened. She remembered taking some blood from the microwave, and then, nothing.

He stomach growled at that moment, reminding her that she had been hungry then, and still hadn't eaten. She heard a click from somewhere overhead and looked up to see a camera pointed in her direction. "Well, at least they know I'm awake," she thought.

She sat for some time before anyone came. She didn't recognise the woman. She was in her thirties, and was dressed in a skirt and blouse under a white coat. As she approached the cell, lights came on, and the woman started to talk into a miniature recorder.

"The subject came round at ten forty-two this morning. She sat up on her bed and looked around. She is in human face, and appears non-threatening. Of course, that is how vampires lure their prey, so I am not fooled. I intend to carry out the tests in section one of the research plan, and am waiting for security back up before I enter the cell."

As if they heard her words, two burly men appeared at that moment. Both were armed with crosses, and they opened the cell door. They stood one each side of the door, and the woman walked between them. Emily saw her chance to ask what was going on, and did so.

"It is not your place to question me."

"Why am I here? What have I done to deserve being kidnapped and kept prisoner?"

"You are a thing of evil. You have no rights, and the only reason you were not staked on sight is the fact that we wish to study you. There has been a lot of speculation about you, and my job is to refute it. I believe you are a vampire like all others, and I intend to prove it."

Emily's stomach growled rather obviously at that point. The woman noticed, and smiled unpleasantly, lifting her recorder back towards her mouth.

"It appears the subject is hungry. As is normal practice, she will not be fed unless it becomes necessary to continue the tests."

She nodded to the security guards, and they moved to flank her as she approached. She held out a cross, and advanced towards Emily. Instinctively, Emily flinched away from the cross, but the researcher ignored that. She thrust the cross into Emily's face. Emily expected pain. She expected the smell of burning flesh, but there was neither.

The woman pulled back, looking puzzled. "I touched the subject in the face with a standard type 3 wooden cross. There was no injury."

She pulled a bottle from the pocket of her lab coat. It contained a clear liquid which Emily assumed was holy water. Carefully, the stopper was removed, and the bottle was upturned over Emily's bare arm. The water ran down her arm, but caused no pain.

"Holy water applied to the bare skin of the subject's arm also had no effect."

She withdrew, considering Emily.

"Mrs. Borkett, how did she do that?" One of the guards was asking.

"I don't know," the researcher replied. She turned towards Emily. "What are you doing? Have you used some charm or spell to protect yourself from holy objects? The traitor-witch, did she do something to you?"

"I'm as surprised as you are," Emily replied, trying not to let the fear she was feeling show. "I've avoided crosses and holy water since I was changed. It never occurred to me that I'd be immune. Now, will you let me go? My friends won't stand for me being kept like this." 

"Your friends have other things to worry about. The traitors have been taken out of the game, all except one of them. He will soon be disposed of. We expect him to try to rescue you, and when he does, his treachery will be proved. Did you know that the Council of Watchers has the right of summary execution under English Law? Few people do. But for humans who betray their kind to creatures from Hell such as you, it is the prescribed punishment. So, when he comes, he will be signing his own death warrant."

Emily gasped at the words. She knew Alasdair would try to save her. But what about Buffy and Spike?

"I see the ideas going through your mind. You are thinking that you count other vampires among your friends. No matter. They cannot enter this building. Any such creature who breaches the perimeter of the building is instantly burned to death. It's an ancient magic which has protected the Council since the start of recorded history. Your fate is sealed. You will give us your secrets, we will know everything there is to know about you, and then the protection which keeps the security spell from affecting you will be removed, and you will join your 'friends' in a fiery end."

Mrs. Borkett then ordered the guards to prepare the subject and left the cell. Emily found herself with a stake pressed into her flesh over her heart as she was unchained from the wall and pulled out of the cell.

"Remember the security spell," one of the guards reminded her. "If you manage to get away, we'll remove your protection immediately, and you'll get nicely barbecued."

They moved her to a room a short distance from the cell. It looked more like an operating theatre than anything else, with bright lights, polished stainless steel surfaces and a table in the middle. Emily was unceremoniously strapped to the table, and the two guards retreated a short distance away. Mrs. Borkett returned a few moments later, followed by someone Emily recognised. It was Michael.

Despite what everyone had told her about him, and her own experience of being abandoned by him, Emily initially felt hope.

"Michael, get them to let me loose. I won't hurt anyone. I just want to go home."

Michael's face became a mask of hatred.

"How dare you speak to me? You are an evil thing. You deserve no consideration. Just because you walk around in the body of a Slayer doesn't mean you have any rights at all. You are a vampire, a creature of hell. You deserve only the death that was denied you the first time."

Emily felt tears form in her eyes at his words. This was the man she had once trusted. When her family let her down, he was her anchor. That he could discount her so completely was still a shock despite his earlier actions. She struggled to keep the tears from falling.

"So, the cross and the holy water had no effect?" Michael's attention was centred on Mrs. Borkett.

"That's right, Sir," she replied. "Neither had any effect."

"Hmm, I'd like to see that, Jeanette. Could you repeat those tests for me, please? There's a control subject in the next room, why don't we wheel him in and we can do the test again?"

A nod to the security guards had them scurrying to wheel in another table like the one Emily was strapped to. On it was a vampire. He was male and looked to be in his twenties. Emily didn't recognise him, but she instinctively felt sorry for him. He looked as if he hadn't fed for some time. He wasn't feeling the pain of starvation yet, but she suspected he wasn't far away. His demon face was to the fore, and he seemed to be naked. Every part of his body she could see was covered in cuts or burns caused by crosses or holy water.

The tests were repeated, but this time Emily had to hear the screams of the other vampire as his skin burned under the cross and where the holy water was dripped onto his body. Again, the holy objects had no effect on her.

"Interesting," Barrat murmured. "How do you think she's done that? Magic? Could the witch have done such a thing?"

"I don't know, Sir. She's the most talented and knowledgeable witch we have. I doubt any of the others would be able to answer that question."

"Very well, let's try the next test, shall we? What is it? Oh, yes, sunlight."

Emily knew this was one test she couldn't get through without pain. She had caught an arm in stray sunlight a time or two, and she knew the sickening stench of burning flesh and remembered the pain too well. 

There were windows at high level around the room. All had rigid covers, and first the other vampire's trolley was wheeled over to lie under one of them. There was a switch on the wall, and when it was depressed, one of these shutters opened, allowing a stream of natural light to enter. The scream from the vampire was horrible to hear. The light hit him on the chest, on a part that was already horribly burned from similar treatment. After a designated time, the shutter closed automatically, and the trolley was pushed away. The resulting wound was prodded and measured, although how they could tell what had been caused by the most recent exposure, Emily had no idea.

Her trolley was placed on the same spot. Mrs. Borkett moved over to her and unceremoniously opened the front of Emily's blouse. When she saw the bra underneath, she went to a drawer and removed a pair of scissors. She used these to remove the offending article of clothing.

Emily knew the exposure to sunlight was going to be painful, but the only thing she was aware of was that she was now half naked in the company of three strange men. Had she been able to blush, her cheeks would have been flaming, especially when she heard some whispered comments between the two guards. Mrs. Borkett looked disapprovingly at them and they went quiet. Michael's reaction was different. He was looking at Emily very carefully, making sure she was aware of his perusal. She felt soiled by his interest, and worse when he spoke to his colleague.

"Jeanette, can you tell me why she has remained dressed? How can you perform the full range of tests on her like that?"

"You're right, sir, but I intend to remove clothing as necessary. I find it easier to maintain a scientific atmosphere that way." As she spoke, she clearly indicated the reaction of the two guards.

"I see," he answered. "I'm not sure I approve. You're treating her as if she deserved some sort of respect. She's a thing, a test subject, nothing more. If others present are perverse enough to take pleasure in her being naked, that is really their problem. Personally, I cannot imagine anything less sexually alluring than an animated corpse."

As he spoke, Michael picked up the scissors from where Jeanette had left them. He proceeded to cut away Emily's remaining clothing, but his earlier words were made to sound dubious by the way he allowed his hands to touch her body as he did so.

When he had finished, Michael flipped the switch on the wall, and the sunlight streamed in. Emily knew immediately that her skin was smoking. She could smell it, and the pain was severe. She was determined to remain still, and not give Michael the satisfaction of knowing how painful it was.

"You know," he said as he carried out a range of measurements on the scorched flesh of her chest. "I think maybe I'd better complete the tests myself. I'm concerned at your attitude. You have other work, I take it?"

"Yes Sir, but I had been led to understand that the next project of significant importance would be mine."

"And I've decided you are not up to the rigours of this particular project. Go, and take your goons with you."

The other three left, and Michael approached Emily with a leer. "Now it's just us, slut. I've got a whole raft of tests to do, and I can guarantee you aren't going to like any of them. What's the next one, oh yes, healing rate from cuts of various depths. That's always a fun one. To think, I once considered changing our relationship. I mean, I thought it would be good to have a Slayer in my bed, once you were old enough, of course. You know, it used to be considered a perk of being a Watcher. Society wouldn't approve of Slayer and Watcher living in close proximity without a marriage, and that was considered the obvious course of action. Not that I would have considered marrying you, but times have changed. Now I see how you turned out, I'm almost glad you didn't last that long. Of course, that caused me all sorts of problems, so I'm happy to have this opportunity to repay you for having the temerity to get yourself killed on my watch."

Emily listened to Michael, trying to reconcile her memories of her Watcher with the man in front of her. Although it was the same face, and the same voice, she could see nothing familiar. Hatred and bitterness had twisted both, and she felt a combination of fear and pity. Fear primarily for Alasdair, Buffy and Spike, and pity because he was a shell of the man he had once been. He had never been brave, or daring, but he had at least been honest. She found she couldn't trust herself to answer him.

"Good," he said softly, "you've got nothing to say. I really didn't want to hear your voice. I had enough of that when you were alive. Now, where did she leave the standard knife set?"

It was late before Alasdair woke to a blinding headache and the smell of coffee. Spike didn't seem to be talking to him, and on balance, that seemed to be a good thing. He poured some coffee, and tried to nibble a slice of dry toast, but gave it up as a bad job. He was sore from spending the night on the sofa, and considered going to bed, wondering why Spike hadn't put him there when he passed out. As if he knew what was on his mind, Spike answered the unspoken question.

"Didn't put you to bed. Thought the smell of her there might waken you."

He looked at his vampire friend. Spike knew exactly how he was feeling. He understood, and it was a relief to know that he didn't have to explain.

"Suggest you go and get cleaned up, though. Oh, and maybe take some paracetamol. Buffy's coming back with Jenny and the kids. It's going to get a lot noisier here before long. Once we're all together, we can talk about what we can do."


	6. Chapter 6 Curiouser and Curiouser

****

Chapter 6 - Curiouser and Curiouser

Lizzie's squeals could be heard from the spare bedroom. She was making herself at home, and the news that she would be sharing the big, double bed with her mum was a real treat. She didn't understand that there was a problem with her dad. He was working away somewhere, and, while she missed him, he always came back.

Buffy came in to find her jumping on the bed, her face flushed with excitement. She caught the child, pulling her down onto the bed and tickling her into submission.

"You're mom's on the phone. We need to keep the noise down a bit. And, we really don't need to have to take little girls who've fallen off the bed to hospital with bumped heads. Let's see if we can do something else. Do you want a story?"

Lizzie's giggling subsided, and she looked seriously at Buffy. "Don't need you to read me a story. I can read you a story."

"Ok, you read to me. What've you got?"

"I like this one." Lizzie pulled a book from a back pack she had brought with her. "It's about a boy called Henry and he's got a brother called Peter. And Henry's a bad boy, and Peter's a good boy."

They settled down to the story, but Buffy's mind was on the call Jenny was taking. She allowed her mind to wander further, wondering exactly what had happened the night before. She still hadn't spoken to Spike about the stupid chance he took, and she could feel the fear in the pit of her stomach when she thought how easily she could have lost him.

Spike and Alasdair were in the kitchen. They had left Jenny to talk to her solicitor in peace, but Spike's hearing was tuned to hear the tone of voice, if not the actual words, in the other room. The instant the call was over, he jumped up and ran into the lounge, Alasdair at his heels.

Jenny was sitting with her head in her hands. It took several seconds before she realised she was no longer alone. When she looked up, her face was puzzled.

"What is it?" Spike's impatience got the better of him.

"I don't know. My solicitor has just spoken to the lawyer in Malta who was looking into Rupert's case. He says that Rupert was released yesterday into the custody of representatives of the Council of Watchers. Then, late last night, it was found that the informant who had reported that Rupert was trying to steal antiquities was unreliable, and the charges were dropped. As far as the authorities in Malta are concerned, Rupert is free to leave the country, but no one knows where he is."

Alasdair and Spike shared a look, but it was Spike who said what both were thinking. "The Council."

"So, what do we do?" Jenny wanted to know.

Alasdair looked at the woman, wishing he had something better to offer. "I don't know. We don't even know where he is. He could be still on Malta, or he could be on his way back to London. Of the two, the latter seems more likely. I mean, this is their base. If they're going to keep someone under lock and key, that's got to be easier on home ground, hasn't it?"

Spike nodded. "And, Emily's probably in London too - most likely at the Council headquarters. There's definitely another exit from Barrat's office, and I'd bet anything that's where Emily is. The same might go for Giles, when he gets here."

There was silence for a few moments. The silence was broken by Buffy coming in again. Lizzie had decided she didn't want to read out loud, and Buffy wanted to find out what had happened. 

Alasdair asked about something that had been preying on his mind since the symptoms of his hangover had receded.

"Spike, I'm a bit woolly on what happened last night. I know I was out of my mind with worry, and then we came back, and I seem to remember drinking a lot, but something's been bothering me. What happened?"

Spike glanced at Buffy and saw her gaze harden. He winced slightly, then started to speak. "Well, I got back and found you were gone. I guessed you'd gone to the Council building, so I drove into town. Found an open window, and headed down to …."

"Wait. You just climbed in a window?"

"Well, yeah."

"Do you have any idea of the security on that building?"

"No. Must admit, I thought there would be something, well, er, demon orientated. But there was nothing."

Alasdair was shaking his head. Buffy jumped in. "What is it Alasdair?"

"Well, there is security. There's a defence on that building - it's been there since the building was first erected, and it's been used on every headquarters since the Council was first formed. It's a spell. Very powerful. It incinerates any demon who enters the building."

Spike looked slightly sick, but Buffy just looked angry. Spike immediately tried to defend himself.

"Well, it didn't work. No burning. No heat. Don't think much of the spell."

"Spike, something's going on." Alasdair sounded concerned. "I mean, it's not a frequent occurrence or anything, but it's worked fairly recently. It's well known among those working in the building - office gossip. The last time I knew of it happening was, maybe two years ago. Just before Travers was turned. The rumour afterwards was that it was one of Angelus' minions sent to capture Travers. Don't know, though. It's rather difficult to identify the victim afterwards. It's probably happened since then, but I've been out of the loop."

"So," Buffy asked. "Why isn't Spike all dusty? Not that I'm complaining, because I'm really going to enjoy showing him how angry I am with him later."

"To be perfectly honest, I really don't know. There is a protection spell. It's used on demons held on the premises. It can be removed quickly, so it's an incentive not to attempt escape. If you haven't had the protection spell done for you, then the only other possibility is that the security spell's been breached somehow."

Spike nodded his head. "Who could do that? I mean, it'd take someone pretty powerful, wouldn't it?"

"By today's standards, it'd take someone very powerful, probably working in tandem with others…… Grianne."

"But she's …" Jenny started.

"We don't know where she is. The Council decided to get her out of the way, and we've heard what was written in that letter, but, what if she got wind of what was happening, and got herself back to her coven?" Spike was looking happier than before.

"But, how would she know Spike would try an idiotic thing like last night?" Buffy asked.

"Don't you see, she didn't have to?" Alasdair countered. "If she got wind of what Barrat was planning with Emily, she could have destroyed the security spell to safeguard Emily. She would know that Emily wouldn't prove an easy prisoner, and might try to escape," Alasdair replied.

"So," Spike summarised. "Grianne is still free, but probably hiding out in Ireland. That simplifies things. Now we only have two captives to worry about. Is there any way we can contact Grianne? If anyone can find the other two, it's her."

"If she's hiding, we're just going to have to wait until she contacts us." Buffy answered.

It was much later. Buffy had decided to go out for a walk, and Spike had reluctantly decided to go along. The afternoon had been painful for all involved. They had discussed every idea they had to try to release Emily, but nothing sounded like anything other than a suicide attempt. It didn't help that there was tension between the two vampires. When the evening meal was over, and Jenny was busy bathing the two children, Alasdair had practically pushed Spike out of the house to follow Buffy. 

"Whatever it takes, sort it out," he had told him. Spike knew he was right, and that the only reason the unpleasant atmosphere between them had been allowed to fester was because they had company. Buffy didn't want to do whatever she felt she had to with their friends, and perhaps more particularly, the children, in attendance.

At first, Buffy ignored Spike. She was walking briskly, enjoying the feeling of actually doing something, even if it wasn't calculated to achieve much. She felt her head clear, but at the same time, the resentment she was feeling towards Spike was growing.

The local park was closed - its gates locked at dusk. Of course, a locked gate was no obstacle for either of them, so they pulled themselves over the fence. Inside it was very dark. There was no illumination inside the park other than what leaked from the backs of the houses that surrounded the park. Picking her route with precision, the darkness no obstacle, Buffy headed into the interior of the park, Spike following, willing her to acknowledge him.

At last, he could bear it no longer. The worst thing she could possibly do to him was to ignore him. He yanked on her arm, pulling her to face him.

"Will you just hit me, or whatever it is you have in mind!"

Buffy turned to face him, and for a second, her eyes glowed golden as her anger threatened to overwhelm her. She fought down the change, and was surprised to find that her hazel eyes were filling with tears.

She launched a punch at him. It knocked him off his feet, sending him flying through the air to land in a heap. He raised his fist to his nose, noting that he was bleeding. Buffy stood looking at him, her hands on her hips, her face a mixture of fury and fear and sadness.

"Do you know what it would have done to me if you hadn't come back?"

Her voice was almost inaudible, but filled with emotion.

"'Bout the same as I felt when Angelus had you?"

"No! Then, you had hope. You had a chance I'd come back. If you'd been caught by that security spell, I don't think I'd have lasted the day."

Spike stood up and walked towards her. He wanted to hold her, to show her he was still there. He wanted to promise that he'd never do anything that stupid again, but he knew better. If there was one adjective that described Spike it was 'impulsive'. If he hadn't been, he wouldn't have her. He would have killed her that night in Sunnydale and walked away from the corpse of his third Slayer.

As he tried to put his arms around her, she pushed him away, then rained blows down on his torso. He took punch after punch without blocking or defending himself in any way. The blows became feebler as the tears which had formed in her eyes started to flow. At last they were so weak, that he moved towards her again. He pulled her close and held her tight.

"I'm here, Love. And I'm not going anywhere. I know how you feel, 'cos I'd feel the same way if anything happened to you. I'm sorry I took a stupid risk, but you'd have done the same thing."

Buffy shook her head, but Spike's eyes held hers, and she gradually realised he was right. Had she been the one to discover what Alasdair intended the previous night, she would have done the same thing. Realisation increased her sobbing, and Spike pulled her even closer. When, at last, her sobbing quieted, Spike kissed her. Her response was immediate. Not only had they spent the previous night apart, but the tension between them had added to her need for him. Without discussion, they both started to head back to the flat, hoping the others wouldn't find a reason to detain them. 

The flat was quiet when they returned. The door to the bedroom Jenny was using was open, and the quiet breathing of two children could be heard. The television was on in the lounge, but neither Alasdair nor Jenny acknowledged their return. The two vampires headed for their bedroom and closed the door behind them. It was late the next morning before either emerged, and when they did, it was obvious that everything between them was well again.

* - * - *

Rupert Giles came around somewhere dark. A little later, he realised he was lying on a cold, damp, stone floor. He squinted around, but couldn't make out much detail in his immediate vicinity. He started to get up, but almost thought better of it as his head started to swim and throb. He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position and from there to his knees. He stayed that way for a few moments, as the room seemed to be spinning. When the sensation lessened, he pulled himself up and took in his surroundings. 

It didn't take too much imagination to recognise he was in a dungeon. The amount of moisture on the walls and the floor certainly suggested they were underground, and the stonework certainly fitted with being part of a very old building. The room was small, and the word 'cell' didn't seem at all inappropriate. There was a slight glimmer of light coming from one wall, and Giles approached it cautiously. It was a grill in the wooden door, and through it he could just make out what seemed to be a dimly lit stone corridor. There was no sign of anyone, so he turned away from the light, letting his eyes readjust to the darkness of his cell.

After a few moments, he found he could just make out some sort of a raised object on the opposite wall, so he approached it carefully, finding a hard wooden bench which would probably double as a very uncomfortable bed. There was a damp blanket on the bench, and Giles considered wrapping himself in it, as the damp chill of the place was causing him to shiver. He sat down gingerly, wrapping his arms around his body to keep as warm as he could and tried to remember what had happened.

His physical symptoms resembled a hangover, but he had no memory of getting drunk. At first he had no memories of any sort, but gradually things came back to him. He remembered being in Malta. He remembered being arrested, and kept in a prison cell. He remembered it quite fondly now compared with his current accommodation. At least it had been warm and dry. He remembered the news that he was to be released, and the relief he had felt when he recognised a familiar face from the Council of Watchers. The man was John Waters, and he knew him slightly, but had never had much contact with him. John had taken him outside to a waiting car, and then it went blank. He assumed he had been drugged, most likely by injection, as he couldn't remember eating or drinking anything.

He tried to work out a reason for what was happening, but he could think of nothing. Whatever it was, it seemed likely that either the Council of Watchers was responsible, or that he was captured because he was a representative of the Council. It the latter were true, then where were John and the driver of the car, whoever that was? He decided to try shouting, to see if there was anyone else around.

He approached the grill again, and shouted. He could hear the echo of his own voice reverberating around, but there was no reply. As an afterthought, he checked his watch, illuminating the display so he could see the time and date. It was late afternoon, some nine hours after his release from prison. He had no idea of his location. He could have travelled a significant distance in nine hours, and, while he could still be on Malta, he tended to doubt it. Then there was the possibility that those who captured him had altered his watch, so he realised with a sickening feeling that he really didn't know anything at all.

*-*-*

Grianne Sullivan woke to a bright day. She swung her legs out of bed, and pulled on a wrap before going to her ensuite bathroom for a shower. When she was dressed, she went downstairs to the dining room to find a simple breakfast already laid out for her. She ate her toast and drank two cups of tea undisturbed, then went to find the others.

She was the last to arrive, but she had known she would be. She had not seen some of these women for many years, yet they were closer to her than mere family could be. These were her sisters, the members of the coven to which she had belonged since she had first shown promise in the magical arts at the age of six. Forty years later, she was among the most senior of them, but one of very few required to live away from the sisterhood. She had arrived late two nights before, but she was expected and everything she needed had been prepared. The magic she had performed on her arrival was ancient, and drained her to such an extent that she had no memory of being put to bed after the ritual, and she knew she had slept for almost thirty-six hours.

She settled on the ornately carved chair remaining in the circle, and smiled at her sisters. "What news?" she asked.

"The removal of the protection spell was successful. It has already proved its worth, as one of her protectors entered the building last night."

The speaker was an auburn haired witch, aged perhaps thirty, who sat opposite Grianne. "Which?" Grianne asked.

"The one who calls himself 'Spike'. The Highlander went to attempt to rescue the girl, and the vampire went to his aid."

Grianne nodded silently, her thoughts full of the relief she felt that she had refused to delay the removal of the protection spell. She had received information from the Coven supplied by another member who was privy to the inner workings of the Council. Eleanor Price was one of those whose families made up all the high level positions within the Council, and a good many less exalted positions too. Because of her connections, she was privy to information not available to the majority of Watchers. Her family assumed her loyalty to them would overcome her loyalty to the sisterhood. They were wrong. She was employed by the Council as a witch, and while her talents were small compared to Grianne, she was a valued member of the coven.

The news that Eleanor had supplied was that Grianne was to be taken prisoner by the Council so that a move could be made on Emily. Grianne immediately took counter measures, and managed to cast a simple confusion spell which ensured that her would-be captors believed they had her prisoner. She had immediately returned to her true home, and taken the measures she had decided were required. Now came the time to decide on the next course of action.

"And how is Emily?"

There was embarrassed shuffling at this. "She's alive," one of the witches started.

"And?"

"And, Michael has started the standard raft of tests on her."

"Then, they know." Grianne's simple statement caused the mood in the room to become more sombre than before.

"If they know," Grianne reasoned, "then they will try to destroy her."

"But" another replied, "that will not be so easy."

"Easy, no. Possible, yes. And in the meantime, Emily will be likely to suffer a great deal. We must act, and act soon. In the meantime, what of the others? You said that Alasdair tried to rescue her, and that Spike came to his aid. What of Buffy and Giles?"

"We believe Buffy is in London with Spike and Alasdair. Giles' wife and children are there also. The whereabouts of Rupert Giles is unknown."

"Very well," Grianne summed up. "Then, our tasks are clear. We must find Rupert Giles, and we must free Emily. Those of you gifted in searching for the lost, find Giles. The rest of us must plan how to remove Emily from the Council. The New is not yet able to protect herself, and she must be allowed to fulfil her potential. The vested interests within the Council are alone among humankind in wanting to destroy that which was foretold. We must stop them."


	7. Chapter 7 The Master of the Council of ...

****

Chapter 7 - The Master of the Council of Watchers

Being summoned to this office was always a big deal. It didn't matter whether it was a good reason, or a bad one, it was still an occasion. The outer office looked like nothing else in the building. The Council of Watchers lacked for little in their London headquarters, but, at the top of the building, accessible to most only by invitation, was the office of the Master of the Council of Watchers. Michael Barrat sat nervously in the outer office. The Master's secretary watched him hawkishly as she worked, apparently irritated that his presence was allowed to degrade the stylish surroundings. After what she deemed was a suitable wait, she stood and beckoned him to the door to the main office.

"The Master will see you now, Mr. Barrat."

Michael stood, conscious that his hands were damp with perspiration. He nervously ran his index finger between the collar of his shirt and his neck, trying to relieve the chafing that suddenly assailed him. He had never been called before the Master before - not even when he returned to London after Emily was turned. Then he had been grilled by one of the then Master's assistants, and that was an experience he didn't want to repeat. He had no idea why he had been summoned today. He had filed his initial report on Emily the previous night before he had left for home. He was puzzled by much of it, but the initial testing procedure was complete after two days, and it was policy that he report at that stage. He had arrived at his office this morning to find an addition to his diary - a request to present himself to the Master at ten. His own secretary had blanched when she had seen the entry. Such summonses were rare, and even more rarely were they happy occasions.

He knew the current Master, of course. He had been around the Council throughout Michael's own time there. Like Barrat, Lucien Spencer also came from an old Watcher family. Unlike the Barrat family, the Spencers always found their way to the top echelons of the Council.

He entered an office which defied imagination. To say it was spacious, elegant, richly furnished and decorated would be to insult it. It seemed to go on for ever. There was a huge conference table at one end, surrounded by the paraphernalia required by such a facility, but it in no way overwhelmed the room. At the other end of the room, was an informal seating area which could easily accommodate fifty. Somewhere between these two areas, was a huge desk behind which sat Lucien Spencer.

Lucien Spencer sat in the centre of his domain with pride. He was in no way overawed by the opulence in which he found himself. He simply considered it his due. His family had been at the pinnacle of British society for generations, and despite some problems several decades previously, the family had retained its position. His ancestral home was filled with portraits of previous Masters of the Council of Watchers from whom he was descended. In fact, although it was not apparent to those unconnected to the family, every member of the upper management of the Council was related to him. The relationships were intentionally blurred for general consumption, but family members were brought up to understand the intricate ties between the various families which made up the Spencer clan. As a Spencer by name, Lucien was a member of the senior branch of the family, but the other names (Borkett, Waters, and Willoughby, among the most prominent) were kept in order by their interdependencies. It simply was not in their interest to do other than support the status quo.

Spencer glanced up from the report he was reading as Barrat entered. He pointedly ignored the other man, returning to what he was reading as Michael stood awkwardly in the doorway. He looked up a short while later, and beckoned Barrat to sit on the opposite side of his desk. Barrat moved smartly to the proffered chair, and was surprised to note that the document Spencer was reading was a printed version of the report he had filed the night before.

It was several minutes before Spencer spoke. When he did, he did not look happy.

"Barrat," he looked back at the document to check the name, "isn't it? This is your report. On one …. Emily Stevenson. She was your Slayer, was she not?"

Barrat replied in the affirmative to both questions. 

Spencer put the report down, and stared at Barrat. The stare was designed to make the other man uncomfortable. "Do you have any idea of the damage you could have done with this report?"

Whatever Barrat had been expecting, it wasn't that. "Damage? I don't understand."

"Damage. The preposterous claims you have made here. I'm just glad Jeanette Borkett warned me about the direction your tests were taking. At least I was able to remove this report from general circulation before the damage was done."

Michael felt he should defend himself, but he wasn't yet sure what the accusation was. "I have only reported the tests done and the results achieved."

"You claim that this ….vampire," he said the word as if it sullied his tongue to utter it, "was immune to the effects of holy objects."

"That's what happened. And Jeanette Borkett found the same thing. I was keen to know what was happening with that particular subject, so I stopped at her office while she was making notes on her initial tests. I was surprised, naturally, and wanted to see the tests first hand. I wasn't happy with the way she was conducting the tests, so I took over. If she's been telling you anything else, she's lying because I pulled rank on her."

Spencer's face didn't give any clue to his thoughts. "Stupid man," he thought. "She's a Borkett, a second cousin of mine. You couldn't possibly pull rank on her. She's only in the position she currently occupies to keep an eye on people like you."

Aloud, he ignored Barrat's comments. "You stand by what you wrote here, then?"

"Of course I do. I'd be happy to demonstrate her immunity to you personally. Any time you'd like to pop into the research department, we can repeat the tests. As you've no doubt read, her reaction to other stimuli is as expected. Sunlight burns her. I expect that a wooden stake will cause her to revert to dust, although that is, of course, the ultimate test. Her healing rate is exceptional, however. I suspect the same for her strength, but that remains to be tested rigorously."

Spencer stopped listening after Barrat's affirmation. He mulled over the action he had to take, only listening again towards the end.

"I see," he told Barrat. "Of course, if you are willing to stand by the report, that is a different matter. Please keep me personally informed of the progress of the rest of the tests. I can see you are someone we are going to have to keep an eye on."

The smile Spencer gave the other man was intended to be conciliatory, but Barrat was reminded of nothing so much as a shark. Spencer's cold grey eyes seemed to bore through him, and he wondered if the man had any feeling at all.

Spencer stood up, holding out his hand to Barrat. "Thank you so much for meeting me today. I'm kept here in my office much of the time, with the details of the Council for company, and I don't often get the opportunity to meet those of you who do such sterling work on our behalf."

Michael recognised his dismissal, and started to walk towards the door through which he had entered the office. Spencer put a hand on his shoulder, and propelled him instead to an area behind the conference table. "Please, allow me to show you my personal lift. You can take it directly to the basement, and it will save you having to walk past my secretary and other assistants. It is so tedious to see them wondering what was discussed here, isn't it?"

Spencer fingered the remote control in the pocket of his suit jacket, and a part of the wall pulled back to reveal the sliding doors of a lift. Another button on the remote, and these doors opened. He gently propelled Barrat into the lift, adding as Michael turned to face outwards again, "Good work, Barrat. I'll be waiting to hear from you."

The doors closed, and then disappeared behind their cover. Spencer pulled the small remote control out of his pocket and removed a secure cover from one end. He pressed the button which was hidden there, and calmly walked to his desk. He picked up his phone, dialling a number quickly.

"Package on its way to the sub basement. Dispose of it in the usual way."

There was no reply to the order, just a click as the line went dead.

He ended that call, and entered another number. "Full meeting in my office at eight this evening," he ordered.

"Yes, Sir," came the answer.

*-*-*

It was late that same morning when Emily regained consciousness. She opened her eyes warily, relieved to find she was in her cell. The bright lights of the research lab would mean a resumption of tests, and she really didn't want that.

She had undergone two days of tests so far. The previous two days had been a nightmare. The testing procedure included repeated exposure to measured amounts of sunlight, cuts to varying depths and a number of other injuries applied to various parts of her body. The initial injury was not the end of it, however. Each hour, the injuries were examined, prodded and poked in an effort to measure the rate of healing, and in many respects, that part was worse than the original damage.

She didn't remember being returned to her cell the previous night. The tests at the end of the previous day had included intentional infection of a number of wounds by bugs Emily had no understanding of and ended by measuring the effects upon her of a number of drugs. One of them at least had had a significant effect, since she had been knocked out. She knew instinctively that the sun had risen when she woke, so she knew she had been unconscious all night.

She gasped as the cuts on her limbs and abdomen pulled as she sat up. Michael had been very thorough in his efforts. He had carried out the tests with enthusiasm, apparently taking great pleasure from every sound she made. She looked at her arm, pleased to note that the wounds from the first day had closed. The newer wounds on her abdomen seemed to have stopped bleeding, and healing was advanced except where her movement had pulled the gashes open again. 

She was surprised at how quickly her injuries from the day before had healed. She knew she had accelerated healing, but hadn't suffered many injuries in the past year. The last time she had had major trauma of any sort was after Angelus, and she was sure her wounds had taken longer to heal then. Then there was the fact that she had had no blood of any kind since before she was captured. By that standard, her healing rate was amazing. She thought perhaps such things improved with time, and made a mental note to ask Buffy and Spike.

Thinking about those two friends, she felt fear at the prospect that they would try to free her. She didn't want to consider the possibility that they had already tried to rescue her, and had both been immolated. And Alasdair, had he been executed? No, she reasoned. If any of those things had happened, she would have been told. Michael would have revelled in her misery. Therefore her friends and her lover were safe. The other possibility, that she had been abandoned by them was one she refused to consider, despite the murmurings in her head which pointed out that no one had ever stuck with her for long. She silenced the voices with her belief that this time it was different. Alasdair would never abandon her.

*-*-*

It had taken some time, but by late afternoon, Giles' location had been discovered. He was in England, in a remote part of Herefordshire, close to the border with Wales. Some rather more mundane research showed that the location was in the grounds of an estate owned by the Willoughby family. Eleanor Price confirmed that the Willoughbys were one of the families at the centre of the Council of Watchers, adding, "They must be very worried about him if a family of that stature is willing to become involved so obviously. Of course, there is a lot at risk for them."

The same team was able to confirm quickly that Emily was indeed being kept in the Council headquarters. Grianne met with her most trusted sisters to come up with a plan of how to extract the vampire from her imprisonment.

There were four women around the table. Grianne welcomed them and asked each to give their ideas in turn. The first, a grey-haired witch well into her seventies, with small eyes that seemed to glitter with an inner light, gave her opinion first.

"There are spells we can use. I've got all the details we need, and they're all well tested, and they can be performed from here. We just need to get in touch with those who will actually do the rescuing. The first priority, I take it, is the child. I know Rupert Giles is a friend, but he is insignificant compared to the New."

Grianne listened with deference to the older woman, glad as always for her wisdom, but desperate to disagree. "Thank you Brenda, but I intend to go to London in person. Remote spells will not be necessary."

The other three at the table shook their heads, almost in unison. A second spoke. She was similar in age to Grianne, but auburn haired. "Grianne, you can't go. We have only a few advantages at present, and one of those is the fact that the Council don't know you are at liberty. I suspect that even that advantage will soon be lost, but in the meantime we would be foolish to squander it."

The remaining participant, younger than the others at about thirty, with black hair and piercing blue eyes added, "And we need you here. Your strength will ensure the success of the spells. The others will have to do what has to be done with our help."

Grianne knew they were right, but she wasn't happy. She had had suspicions from the first that Emily was the one who had been foretold, but that wasn't the reason that she felt so deeply about her. Grianne simply felt that Emily was a young woman who had had a terrible start in life - a life brought to a premature end by evil. That she had been through what she had and become a lovely young woman (despite being a vampire) spoke of her strength and courage. 

"Very well," she agreed reluctantly, "I will stay here. But, how do you propose contacting the others and getting them the information they need?"

"You have been out of touch, haven't you, dear?" Brenda replied. "When you informed us of Emily's likely identity, we ensured that we have others close to the Council. Eleanor already takes a huge risk in her dual role, but she is no longer alone, we have some minor players in the Council, and others who simply live and work in London and have no overt connection to the Council. One of them will simply pay your friends a visit."

The discussion then reverted to details of the spells most likely to be of use. By the time there was a workable plan, it was well after midnight. Contact was made with a supporter in London, and the release attempt was set for the following night.


	8. Chapter 8 A Visitor and a Plan

****

Chapter 8** 8 - A Visitor and a Plan**

Alasdair woke next morning, instinctively reaching for Emily. When he found her side of the bed empty, it all came back. She was gone, taken by the Council, the same Council which employed him and before him, his own father. In his childhood, it was an organisation to be respected, it's heroes people to look up to. 

The pain came back then in full, and he wondered how he had managed to sleep at all, feeling guilty that he had managed something so mundane as taking his rest when Emily was suffering goodness knows what. Alasdair knew the others had kept the worst of their suspicions from him, probably considering him too naïve to realise the full implications of what was happening. That didn't work though, since his love for the young vampire magnified his rational fears in a way only someone who loves deeply can understand.

Disgusted with himself, and his lack of action thus far, Alasdair got up and headed for a shower. The sounds of a family breakfast echoed from the kitchen, and it was obvious that Jenny was there with Lizzie, and probably Stephen too. Not for the first time was he grateful for his friends - those special friends with whom he shared a deeper bond than he would have thought possible. Although Jenny and the children were not directly involved in the events of the previous year, they were Giles' family, and as such, almost as dear to him as his own family could be. He finished his shower, and went to dress.

Spike woke to find himself still entangled with Buffy from the passion of the previous night. He smiled to himself, realising, not for the first time, that that was one of the distinct advantages of not having circulation. Two human lovers sleeping as they had, would have lost all sensation in their limbs long before morning.

He disentangled himself gently, trying not to waken her, and turned onto his side to watch. He'd never tire of this. Waking up next to her was amazing. Seeing her lying there, asleep, trusting him, loving him, it made him happier than any other aspect of their relationship. Not that is wasn't a close call. There were so many other things that made what they had special. Not least the way he felt right then. Of course, how he was feeling right then was not peculiar to Spike when he woke. But seeing her there fuelled the feelings, and he put a hand out to stroke her arm, intending to waken her gently and make love to her. He froze in mid movement, hearing someone moving about. Alasdair. For a few moments, he had forgotten. Forgotten that Emily was missing, and that his friend was desolate without her.

Knowing that Alasdair would probably hear them making love, he mentally shook himself, and got out of bed to head for the shower. Buffy's eyes flickered open as he stood, and she watched him blearily, her expression becoming more interested as she saw more of him as he looked for his jeans. Her thoughts were obviously along the same lines as Spike's had been, so he cocked his head towards the sound of movement next door.

"It's bad enough he probably heard us last night, Love. 'Snot fair to do it again this morning."

Buffy nodded her understanding, but continued to watch the floorshow until Spike had pulled on his jeans and left the room.

When Spike emerged from the bathroom later, it was to an argument between Jenny and Alasdair. The Highlander had been determined to go into work as if nothing had happened. He had some crazy idea that he could rescue Emily during daylight hours in a way he hadn't be able to during his previous attempt. Jenny was doing her best to dissuade him, and Lizzie was watching the exchange with a puzzled expression.

Spike took one look at what was going on, and nodded to Jenny who picked Stephen up and beckoned to Lizzie to follow her out of the room. Spike approached his friend, his face a mask of understanding.

"Do I have to tie you up?" Spike's bluntness surprised Alasdair. He looked momentarily hurt until he remembered the happenings of a year previously.

"That was different, you asked me to tie you up."

"Because I had the sense to know I'd try to do something stupid. If you haven't got that sense, then maybe I've got to decide for you."

Alasdair had the grace to look chastened at Spike's words, hanging his head slightly. Spike approached the taller man, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I know it's hard. But we won't get anywhere if you're in there too. Emily needs you safe."

"But, we're not doing anything!"

"I know, mate, but, sometimes that's better than doing the wrong thing. I just wish Grianne was here. She could help, or Giles. Look, when we're all ready, we're going to thrash through this one more time. There's got to be something we can try."

Alasdair nodded silently, his desperation deflated to a quiet ache which permeated his whole body.

The phone rang, and Spike left his friend where he stood to answer it.

The voice on the other end was young, and female. "Can I ask to whom I am speaking?" it said.

"No, you bloody can't," Spike answered, "unless you tell me who you are."

"I take it I'm speaking to Spike," she replied, mirth evident in her tone of voice. This comment was met with silence, so she continued.

"We have a mutual friend. An Irish woman. I have a message, which I would like to deliver in person."

"I'm listening," Spike admitted, cautiously.

"Is it ok if I come to you?"

"Yeah, know where we are?"

"I do. I'll be there in half an hour."

Alasdair had been listening to the conversation, and when Spike hung up, his friend's face was expectant.

"Some bint claiming to be a friend of Grianne's. She's coming here in half an hour. Better tell the girls."

Almost to the minute, half an hour later, the doorbell rang. Spike got up to answer it, with Buffy a step behind. Both were wary of attack, but felt they had no option other than to assume the visitor was as she claimed. They had no other ideas on how to release the two captives.

The door opened to reveal a young woman, perhaps in her mid twenties, with white blonde hair and pale green eyes. She smiled, as if unsure of her welcome, at the face that greeted her.

"May I come in?" she asked.

The accent was local, cultured without the old-fashioned tones used by Giles. Spike stood back, allowing the girl to pass. Buffy did likewise, but not without taking in every nuance of their visitor.

"I understand you're nervous," the girl told them. "But, please believe me, I am on your side."

They ushered their visitor into the lounge, having persuaded Lizzie to go into the bedroom with a book. Stephen had fallen asleep again after his breakfast, so he wasn't currently a problem.

"I'll start by introducing myself." The girl sounded more confident than she felt. She had four pairs of eyes staring at her, and none of them seemed at all friendly.

"My name is Andrea Miller. I am a friend of the Coven to which Grianne belongs. I wasn't talented enough to become a member myself, but when they asked for my help in this, I was glad to be of service."

Buffy took pity on the girl, who seemed out of her depth, but was covering it well. "I'm Buffy, and the others are Spike, Alasdair, and Jenny." As she said each name, she gestured towards its owner.

"Thank you. I'm here as a messenger, no more. I have had contact from the coven, and they want to tell you, that, should you be willing to attempt to retrieve Miss Stevenson from the Council tonight, they will help with a number of magics. I have details, and between us, we should be able to come up with a workable plan."

"What about Rupert?" Jenny wanted to know.

"I understand your concern, Mrs. Giles, but, the Coven feels that Emily is the first priority. As soon as she is free, they will turn their attention to your husband. He is in England, and I believe it should be a simple matter to ensure his release soon."

Jenny obviously wasn't completely convinced, but nodded her head anyway. It wasn't as though they had been given a choice.

The group listened to the ideas she had brought, and with Alasdair's knowledge of the layout and workings of the building, along with Spike's information on another exit from Barrat's office, a plan started to emerge. 

There were a number of spells available. Andrea was able to confirm that the security spell had been disabled. The building was under constant observation by another coven member, and she reported that no attempt had been made to reinstate it. They hoped that those in the building still had no idea of their current vulnerability.

The other spells on offer included a general sleep spell. It would simply render everyone in the building unconscious at a given time. In addition, there were protection spells. These were of short duration, and would have to be cast in person, although the power could be channelled from a distance. At last, the agreement was made to meet together in a small shop close to the Council offices at nine that night.

"Grianne wanted to come in person," Andrea told them as she left. "But, she was persuaded otherwise. She is really very powerful, you know, and with her at the centre of those channelling power here, there is more chance of success."

"If you see her before we do," Alasdair told the young woman, "give her our thanks. I hope we can all meet again soon, with everything resolved."

No sooner had Andrea left, than Spike had an idea.

"If we're going to get into that building tonight, I think we should have a bit of a look around, don't you love?"

Buffy cocked an eyebrow at him in a perfect parody of his own gesture, and Jenny couldn't help but smile at it. 

Alasdair started to protest, pointing out that it was daylight, but Spike stopped him. "Listen, where's the Research department? Basement, right? Underground. So, all I'm suggesting is that Buffy and I should go and have a snoop around the area. The office isn't far from a tube station, and there're service tunnels and all sorts around there. We might find nothing, but you never know. We might just find something useful. Don't worry, we won't do anything stupid, and if we don't get back in time, we'll meet you at the shop at nine."

With that, the two vampires were gone, and the other two looked at each other. Both were impatient to see their loved ones again. Alasdair had a timetable at least for Emily's release, but Jenny had nothing as yet. She didn't even have the outlet of being able to help in Emily's rescue later, because of the children. At that moment, Stephen's wail could be heard from the bedroom, and it became apparent that the youngest member of the Giles family was in need of some serious maternal care. The nature of his need was made clear a moment later when Lizzie bounded into the room with the words, "Mummy, Stephen's smelly. I think he needs a new nappy."

"Ok, Lizzie," her mother replied. "And how does a walk to the park sound after that? Do you think you can persuade Alasdair to come too?"

Jenny left the room then to attend to Stephen, safe in the knowledge that she had a very persuasive daughter. Getting themselves lost in a bit of harmless domesticity was the ideal cure for both of the adults at that moment, and Jenny knew that seeing to the children would take both minds off their worries for at least a little while.

The two vampires made for the tube system as quickly as they could. Although it was possible to walk outside on a day such as this - it was overcast and grey - neither was comfortable with being outside in daylight. Once inside the familiar ticket hall, they stopped in front of a tube map to plan their investigation. 

"Where to?" Buffy asked. She wasn't particularly familiar with London, and didn't know where to start.

"The offices are close to Green Park," Spike said as he pointed to the blob on the map, and that's on the Jubilee line, and so is Swiss Cottage, so it's a simple enough jaunt. Once we're there, we just try to get away from the public areas."

Buffy nodded her assent, and walked to a ticket machine. While she was looking for change, Spike sidled up behind her. "How do you expect me to maintain my image as a 'Big Bad' if you pay our bleedin' fares? I mean, fare dodging's hardly in the major league, now is it?"

Buffy smiled to herself. She hadn't known him in his 'Big Bad' days, but she struggled to imagine him in such a role. "The last thing we need is to get caught," she said reasonably. "Just humour me on this, and you can show me how big and bad you can be later."

Spike moved closer to Buffy to answer her. He pushed up against her back, grinding his pelvis into her, and whispered in her ear, "Find somewhere quiet around here, and I'll show you how big and bad I am now."

He stepped back again, and waited for her to turn around. When she did, he benefited her with his patent smirk, and she gave him a playful punch on his arm. "Business first, eh?" she said. "We've got to make sure the others are safe."

"I know," Spike replied, immediately serious. "It's just, I miss being alone with you. Knowing Alasdair's in the next room just puts a bit of a damper on things, you know?"

"Can't say I noticed that last night," Buffy replied, placing a quick kiss on his lips. 

"I just want to know everyone's safe, and get home again."

"Me too," she replied, then pulled his arm towards the escalator.

Once at Green Park, they held back as the crowds headed to the surface. When everything was quiet, they quickly found a door marked 'No Entry' and went through.

They wandered the passages quietly, glad of their good night vision. Spike's sense of direction drew them closer to the building, but they found they couldn't get close enough.

They tried another route, and hit the same problem. The tunnels simply didn't seem to get close enough to the location of the building. After several hours of searching, both realised they had to give up. They hadn't checked all the possibilities, but there was just time to get feed before going to the meeting place. They pulled a couple of bags of blood from a bag, and fed in the quiet of a service tunnel. Reluctantly, they headed towards the surface.


	9. Chapter 9 The Workings of the Council

****

Chapter 9 - The Workings of the Council

They arrived via the private lift. Many faces were well known around the offices of the Council of Watchers, many were unknown. When they had assembled, Lucien Spencer took his place at the head of the conference table in his office. The others looked at him deferentially, waiting for him to speak. It was many years since such a meeting had been called. Smaller groups met regularly, running the day to day matters of the Council, but this, a full assembly had not been called for over fifty years. 

To the casual observer, the Council of Watchers was run by the Master. The methods by which the Master was appointed were kept secret from all but the most senior in the organisation, and all of those belonged in some form or another, to the Spencer family. Needless to say, the prime requirement for the job was membership of the Spencer clan. The Master mentally checked those present against those who should be there. This meeting required the heads of each of the families along with all those family members employed by the Council. As such, some faces had not been seen in this room before.

Lucien Spencer cleared his throat, and every face around the table turned to face him. Conversation which had been quiet, ceased abruptly.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. "It is a long time since a meeting such as this has taken place, and I know that you will realise that I would not have called you all together today had the reason not been dire."

He paused to let this sink in before continuing. "I have the sad duty to tell you now, that the prophecy we have feared, that we have done our best to thwart, is, even now, in the process of coming to pass. The New walks the earth. She has, as yet, no hint of her purpose, and it is up to us to ensure that she never will."

There were gasps of horror around the table at these words. One lone hand was raised. The man responsible was young, perhaps in his early twenties, but he had the air of one used to having things as he wanted them.

The Master turned to the young man, saying, "Yes?"

"Yes, I have a question," he answered.

"And, may I know whom I am to answer?"

"Michael Borkett. I have recently come into my father's responsibilities. He died three months ago, quite suddenly. I have to admit that he never shared much information about the Council with me. I knew of its existence, of course, and knew that I would inherit his seat at this table, but I think he believed he would have more time to explain the details. I have to admit, I have no idea about this prophecy you mentioned. I would appreciate an explanation. How could a prophecy possibly affect the Council so profoundly that it generates the reaction I just witnessed?"

Lucien Spencer took a deep breath. He really hadn't wanted to go into this, but he knew he had no choice. The Borkett family was second only to his own, and any suggestion that he had slighted the new head of that family would lead to problems with several other families. He took a deep breath and started to explain.

"The reason for the significance of the prophecy starts a long time ago. I think that, if you are to understand completely, I will have to give you a potted history of the Council of Watchers. To those of you who are already familiar with what I am about to say, I apologise."

"The earliest days of the organisation now known as the Council of Watchers are lost in antiquity. Its roots certainly went back to the days of the druids. With the coming of Christianity to Britain, the Church took over the battle against demons. It was carried out by obscure orders of monks working in tandem with those versed in the pagan magic of the earth."

"The origins of the Slayer are also lost in the mists of time. As a matter of recorded history, they had always existed. At one time, their identities were recognised by those, mainly women, who had the sort of magical skill to see beyond the mundane, those who practised what we nowadays call magic."

Spencer paused, taking a drink from the cut crystal glass in front of him before continuing. 

"The informal organisation worked well, but with the coming of the Industrial Revolution, the system started to falter. In a largely rural society, the Church reigned supreme, and little went on of which a church man somewhere was not aware. With the congregation of people in towns and later cities, the system could no longer operate."

"At that time, various wealthy families, headed by our own ancestors, agreed to set up the Council in a much more formal, and agnostic manner. A huge sum of money was donated and invested to allow the Council its autonomy. Its agents were taken from members of a number of families, who mainly worked without financial remuneration. Many good men gave their lives to the cause, researching ancient knowledge and fighting demons alongside the Slayers."

"As time went on, the number of families involved diminished, until only the Spencer family, and those closely related to it, remained. There had been a number of attempts to wrest control of the Council out of the hands of this family, totally ignoring the fact that the vast majority of the initial funding for the organisation came from us. In the time of Sir Henry Spencer, control of the Council was finally made the ineffable right of those of us who, by blood and history were most suited to the task. This has, of course, made the organisation much more effective, as we no longer have to consider the constant power struggles that used to wrack the organisation."

"Everyone seated around this table should be able to describe, in detail, the genealogical line which links him- or herself with Sir Henry. In my grandfather's day, it was a flogging offence to be unable to recite the line at a meeting such as this."

Michael Borkett looked a little green at this statement, and Lucien noted the fact with satisfaction. He had been irritated at the confident manner in which Borkett had detailed his own ignorance.

"The twentieth century was a trying time for the all our families. Political changes and increased taxation meant that the families were no longer able to pass on their wealth unscathed. With each generation, the money available dwindled, and if it had not been for the Council, many members of the family would have been forced to give up their family estates, losing their rightful place in society."

"The Council has long been immune from taxation, and those responsible for the money invested it in buying these estates from the families. Of course, no title deeds ever changed hands, and the original owners continued to use their ancestral homes and to benefit from any income generated. For this reason, it is imperative that the Council continue to have a purpose. When it was originally constituted, it was decreed that, should the Council ever reach the stage that it was not needed - if demons no longer walked the earth, or if another organisation took over responsibility for Slayers, the Council would be disbanded. In this event, the funds available to the Council were to be used in a variety of charitable ways, none of which would benefit our families. For this reason, it is necessary that the status quo be maintained."

Spencer paused, taking in the nodding heads around the table. Those already familiar with the history of the Council were only too aware of their vulnerability should the Council be disbanded. The most likely result would be bankruptcy. 

"Now, to the prophecy. It is an ancient prophecy, but one we have kept secret for a very long time. In simple terms, it states that there will come one which it calls the New. This creature is a demon, but a very different type of demon. It states that the creature will have been a Slayer. It states that she will be turned into a vampire. It states that, when this happens, she will be an innocent - a virgin. There are other conditions, and they seem extremely complex. I won't go into those at present."

He paused again, taking another drink. "This vampire would be no normal vampire. She would be immune to holy objects. Holy water, and the Holy Cross will do her no harm. Wooden stakes, thrust into her heart will be similarly ineffective. At the height of her power, she will have speed and strength inestimably beyond that of a Slayer. Her healing ability will likewise outstrip the Slayer. She will have a soul - something we have heard theorised before to be common to all Slayers who are turned. She will have no blood lust. She will need blood to grow strong, but she will not wish to kill to obtain blood. There are hints that her life will be protected in other ways, but these references are less clear, and not currently important."

"The prophecy states that she will be the first in a new line of Slayers. Slayers who do not need the Council. Slayers who will be incorruptible. The strength of the new demon is supposedly tied to her purity of heart. The line will flow from the New - each time she makes a new vampire, he or she will be as she is."

Spencer paused again, this time looking around the table, catching every eye on the way around.

"Last night, I read a report, and if the data contained within it are true, the New has arisen."

This statement was met with a stunned silence. "The Council is therefore at risk of disbandment."

Michael Borkett had been bristling since Spencer's comment about his genealogy. He interrupted with, "But who could disband the Council of Watchers? Even if we no longer have control over the Slayers, we can still exist as a research facility - we can still have a role."

Spencer regarded the younger man as if he were extremely naïve. 

"The fact is, that the Council has long had links with the British Government. For the most part, the Government has been a benign influence, giving us access to security forces when required, and keeping us safe from interference from others. However, it would be fair to say that those in power at present are jealous of the power we have. They have ignored that jealousy as long as we fulfil our purpose - keeping the earth safe from demons, and, more importantly, finding and guiding the Slayer. The Prime Minister himself is informed of each new Slayer as she is called, and, this particular man is in regular contact with me to enquire as to her progress. I also believe that, with the agreement of the US Government, the Slayer is watched by British security operatives. They would know if anything happened to her, or if her status changed."

"If what has been prophesied comes to pass, no more human Slayers will be called. It may even be, that the current Slayer will lose her exceptional abilities when the New reaches her full strength. The Government is well aware of the legalities involved in our constitution. They would not hesitate to bring down the full weight of the law upon us if they considered it necessary."

Borkett was not to be so easily put off. "What proof do you have that this 'New' has indeed arisen. You say you have data, but is it reliable."

Spencer took a deep breath. This young man was becoming extremely irritating. "For that, I will ask corroboration from your cousin, Jeanette."

Jeanette Borkett reddened slightly at being noticed in this way, but quickly pulled about herself her most professional manner.

"The initial tests, were in fact, done by me. The vampire we have in captivity is immune to both holy water and the Holy Cross. The tests have continued, and have confirmed these initial results. In addition, her rate of healing is significantly better than any other vampire ever tested. In addition to this, she fulfils every requirement of the prophecy that I have studied. I am in the process of re-analysing the prophecy, but I, am already convinced."

Spencer nodded in satisfaction at her words before continuing. "In accordance with the constitution of the Council of Watchers, I seek guidance on what to do. We have the creature in captivity at present. We do not believe she has yet attained her full potential, but we suspect it will not be long before any mundane attempt to destroy her will fail."

Spencer waved to his secretary who had been sitting at his side, taking notes of what was said. At his gesture, she stood up and started to hand around copies of Michael Barrat's report.

"I suggest that you look at the report which first brought this matter to my attention. We will adjourn the meeting for one hour, to give you time to consider our options. Drinks will be served, if you would be so kind as to take a comfortable seat while you read."

With that, Spencer got up and left the office. He already knew what had to be done, but, given that Jeanette Borkett had been aware of the test results, he had no option other than to put the matter to the whole committee. Failure to do that would have ensured his own dismissal from the position of Master.

Once in his private lift, Spencer used his remote to instruct the lift to go to a floor which did not appear on any map of the building. There was no indication on the lift's own keypad that there was a sub basement. It was, in fact, a long way below the rest of the building. Knowledge of this level was unique to Masters. The details were kept in a safe operated by the remote in his pocket along with a combination, accessible only by the current master, and kept secure by an ancient magic. For this reason, Masters relieved of office rarely lived long. Only by choosing his own successor could a Master hope to live beyond his retirement.

When the door opened, Spencer exited to a small room. The creature who inhabited the room was not human. It was small, perhaps four feet tall, with blue skin. Its eyes were red, and its face approximately human in shape. Spencer did not know how old the creature was. As far as he could tell, it had lived in this room since the building was erected. 

"Good afternoon, Master," the creature greeted him.

"Good afternoon, Phoenix." The Master's greeting was cordial. The power of the creature before him wasn't overt, but he felt it nonetheless. Phoenix was tied to the Council in ways Spencer could not fathom, but he knew that, if he felt it necessary, Phoenix could destroy him. The records of deeds achieved by the strange creature for the benefit of the Council were kept in the Master's private safe. The details were impressive.

"The shipment I alerted you of, is everything in order?"

"It is, Master. Do you wish to see?"

"Yes, I rather think I would."

With a nod, Phoenix jumped up and led the Master to the door. He walked along a short corridor, past a cell which held a huge, and extremely aggressive vampire. As he passed, the vampire became silent, the power of Phoenix somehow achieving the impossible. Past the cell, Phoenix opened a door. The room was small. Its floor and walls were tiled. There was no furniture. The only things which broke the starkness of the white surfaces was the blood which spattered the walls and pooled on the floor, and the body which lay at an extremely unnatural angle in the centre of the room. 

The body was face down, and Spencer approached, trying to ascertain the identity. "Would you mind?" he asked Phoenix.

Obligingly, Phoenix used a foot to turn the body over. Spencer felt bile rise in his throat at the sight. It was Michael Barrat, as he expected it to be, but the identification was by no means obvious. The limbs had obviously been broken several times, and the body was covered with deep gashes and contusions. The damage seemed to be thorough but random, with the exception of the ragged rip to the throat. 

"Was it the creature we passed?" Spencer asked.

"Yes, he's mad, of course. He drinks, but he also wastes a great deal. Still, it's effective. I'll get the body out of here after dark. I'll leave it where it can be found, and the Council of Watchers will have another martyr to the cause."

Spencer nodded. "Thank you, Phoenix. As always, you are efficient. Your efforts on our behalf are appreciated."

"As always, Master, it is a pleasure to serve."

The meeting restarted exactly an hour after it was adjourned.

"Are there any further questions?" the Master asked.

One man spoke, and Spencer recognised Julian Travers. He was a cousin of the late Quentin Travers, and well respected by all present.

"I would like clarification, please, on the extent of the knowledge in this report?" As he spoke, he gesticulated towards the paper in front of him.

Spencer cleared his throat. He had hoped not to have to answer this question, but had fully expected that he would be given no choice.

"Well, apart from those of us present here, three others were present at the original tests. One was our Head of Research, Michael Barrat, and two others, orderlies in the Research department."

"And, what is their status?"

"As to Michael Barrat, I'm afraid I have to inform you of some grave news. It was reported to me, during the adjournment of our meeting, that Mr. Barrat was attacked, most probably by a vampire, and killed. It happened earlier today. It would appear that our esteemed head of Research was doing some investigation in an underground passageway, and met his end. He will, of course, be missed."

Travers gave a satisfied grunt at this news. "And the others?"

Jeanette Borkett answered this. "They work for me. They have worked for my family for generations, and I vouch for their loyalty. In addition, they have been told that the effect they saw, the immunity to holy objects, was the result of a spell, and was temporary. Despite this, both know better than to talk of such things outside."

Travers gave Spencer a look which said plainly that he was not satisfied. The look Spencer returned stated clearly that this loose end would be sorted out.

The other questions were on minor points, and the Master brushed them aside quickly. 

"May I remind you that time is of the essence in this matter. I propose that we destroy this demon. The destruction of demons is the basis for the existence of the Council, and I for one have no compunction in making this proposal. Do I have a second?"

Travers grunted in the affirmative.

"In that case, may I ask those of you in favour to raise your hands?"

Spencer looked around the table and noted in satisfaction that every hand was raised.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I declare that the motion was carried. I will arrange for the task to be carried out immediately."

With that, the meeting broke up, and the participants left in twos and threes by means of the lift. When he was at last alone with Jeanette Borkett, he spoke again.

"You heard the decision. I hereby appoint you our new head of Research. Your first task is the destruction of Emily Stevenson, which I will witness. I just hope we are not too late."


	10. Chapter 10 Things that Go Bump in the N...

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I've been asked by a couple of readers to email them when I update. I'll do it on the basis of a single list, and I'll send out a note whenever I update one of my current stories. If you're interested in being on the list, email me at cryptic6464@yahoo.co.uk_ . _

Many thanks to all of you have left reviews or emailed me with comments. It makes all the typing seem worthwhile!

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Chapter 10 - Things that Go Bump in the Night

Spencer and Jeanette Borkett went down to the cell where Emily was being held.

"Are you sure she is secure?" Spencer wondered.

"Yes, as soon as I suspected the situation, I had her bonds, both here, and in the lab, magically enhanced."

The master nodded his approval, and they continued to the holding cell. 

Since the tests started, Emily had been allowed no freedom at all. When she was returned to her cell, she was still secured to the table on which she had been tested. The trolley was chained inside the cell, and she was left with no consideration as to her comfort.

She had still not been permitted to feed, and the hunger was severe. She would no more consider killing a human to assuage her hunger than she would consider flying to the moon, but, she knew she needed blood. At that moment, a passing rat would have looked like a cordon bleu meal.

Spencer was initially surprised at the young woman strapped to the table. She seemed so small, so vulnerable. Of course, the injuries she had endured still marked her body, and they certainly belied her strength. Together, they wheeled the trolley to one of the labs - this time a different one from that used before. This lab had a hidden door to the private lift, and was therefore more appropriate for the task at hand.

"What do you intend to use?" Spencer's tone was casual. He was surprised that Emily had not spoken, and he was looking forward to her fear when she realised her end was fast approaching.

Emily's eyes flickered to Jeanette as she waited for her answer. She didn't know what was going to happen, but assumed it would be more of the same. She felt her stomach clench unpleasantly at the prospect of further pain, but she had tried to loosen her bonds for hours at a stretch, and they remained in pristine condition.

"I thought I'd keep it simple, and use a stake." As she spoke, Borkett walked to a cupboard in the lab and brought out a suitable weapon. 

"Very well," Spencer approved. 

Emily was frozen in panic. Throughout her ordeal, the one thing that had kept her going was the belief that, despite the odds, she would get out of this. She would see Alasdair again. She would hold him, make love to him, and spend the rest of his life with him. Tears formed in her eyes as she imagined how he would take the news of her demise.

Jeanette lifted the stake and placed it carefully over Emily's heart. She glanced at Spencer, and he nodded encouragingly at her, agreeing that the stake was well placed.

The stake was very sharp. With even the minimal pressure currently being used, it had pierced what was left of Emily's skin, and she could feel it slowly moving lower.

"Is it a standard stake?" Spencer wanted to know.

"It was fashioned from oak, and sharpened for optimal performance. It has been magically strengthened so that the fine point will not break. We don't all have Slayer strength, you see."

"I see. Well, go on." Spencer seemed impatient.

Borkett increased the pressure on the stake, driving it slowly into Emily's chest. She gasped at this new source of pain, almost grateful that it would not last long. The stake travelled further, and Borkett stood back, determined not to be covered in dust when the inevitable happened.

It was then that she noticed the difference. Blood was welling around this most recent injury. She had, in the course of her duties, staked a number of vampires, but none had ever bled like that before. She glanced at Spencer, panic rising within her. He looked irritated.

"Well," he commented, "there are two possibilities. The first is that she is an anatomical oddity, with her heart on the right rather than the left side of her chest. The other, is that we are already too late."

Nodding at the master, Jeanette pulled the stake out of Emily. The vampire let out a moan of pain, the agony of the stake being removed actually worse than the initial staking. 

Jeanette repositioned the stake on the other side of Emily's chest and repeated her action. Again, blood welled from the wound, and the vampire stubbornly refused to turn to dust.

"Very well, we shall just remove the protection spell," Jeanette decided. She pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket. Several such pieces were created during the protection spell, and the destruction of any one of them ended the spell.

"You may wish to stand back, Sir," she warned, stepping away from the trolley. When they were both at a safe distance, she ripped the parchment in two, and watched where Emily lay, pain, terror and confusion marring her features. There were no flames.

Jeanette was starting to wonder what was happening, but Spencer spoke. "I think we may be too late. Let's try to decapitate her. If that doesn't work, we must rely on a method which I would have preferred not to use.

Borkett prepared for the next stage. The standard laboratory method for beheading vampires was a mechanical contraption something like a circular saw. It had been developed specifically for this purpose. 

Emily saw everything through a veil of pain. She didn't understand why she wasn't dust. She knew she should be. The saw being lined up with her neck was terrifying, and she was starting to wish that one of the earlier methods had actually been successful. At least they would have had the benefit of being quick.

The noise as the saw started to spin was horrific. She remembered visits to the dentist as a small child. Although she had never had any remedial treatment, she remembered hearing the sound of the dentist's drill as she waited her turn, and had imagined any number of horrific pictures to go with that sound. None of her images matched the one she was now facing.

When the sound reached its peak, Borkett pulled a switch, and the saw started to move along its run, towards Emily's neck. She tried to pull away, but she had been secured too well, and managed only to postpone her end by a few seconds. 

Just as the saw reached her skin, the noise increased exponentially. She shuddered , expecting a new source of pain, but nothing happened. There was movement around her, and the sound was cut off, fading into silence. 

Jeanette was examining the saw with concern. "It's ruined," she said. "The blade's been completely trashed, and by the sound of it, the motor's gone too. I could get another one, but …"

"You suspect it would meet the same end," Spencer finished. "I was concerned about this. There is one other thing I can try, but I have to do it alone. I can vouch for its efficacy, but I'm afraid I cannot allow you to see what happens."

"But .."

"I'm sorry, Jeanette, but that's my final word. The records will show that the creature succumbed to the original staking at your hands. There will be no suggestion that you have failed in any way."

Jeanette's shoulder's slumped, as she realised there was nothing she could do. 

"Return to your office, and report accordingly."

When he was alone, Spencer activated the door to the private lift, and pushed the trolley inside. When the door was closed, he regarded the slight girl with interest.

"You have caused us some problems, Miss Stevenson, you realise that, don't you? But, difficult as you have made it, your end is near."

Emily felt tears start to flow as the lift plummeted lower and lower. The tears weren't for her, but for Alasdair.

"They won't let you get away with this," she warned him through her tears.

"Ah, but my dear, I already have. Your friends are powerless against the Council, as you will soon experience at first hand. We have allies you could not even imagine."

At the appointed hour, Buffy, Spike and Alasdair were welcomed into a shop in Mayfair. It purported to be a health-food shop, but it also provided some rather unusual herbs and other materials needed by the local wiccan community. Its owner unlocked the door at precisely nine o'clock, and locked it again behind her visitors.

She was a mousy-haired witch in her forties, with a pleasant, friendly face, and dark grey eyes. She had an air of furtiveness about her, as she pulled each of the others into a circle she had drawn on the floor. Once inside, she started to explain what she was going to do.

"The first step, will be to do the sleep spell. You will remain immune to its influence even while in the building, because you are within my circle. Once that is complete, the circle will contain the protection spells I will use.

Their host had made no attempt to introduce herself, but was efficiency itself. Once everything was ready, she stood within the circle, and seemed to concentrate deeply on something. After a few moments, her appearance altered slightly. You couldn't say she was actually glowing, but there was certainly a luminance about her that didn't seem entirely natural. Then she started to speak, and Alasdair recognised the language as Irish Gaelic, although he couldn't make out the individual words.

The first spell took about two minutes to complete, and when that was done, the witch seemed to relax slightly, even smiling to some unknown stimulus. Having rested for a short while, she began again, reciting words none of the others could understand. This time, the luminance from the witch seemed to flow into the circle inscribed on the floor. From there, it snaked up to the other three occupants, surrounding each in turn, then seeming to sink into their bodies.

The light faded gradually, and the witch seemed to slump visibly. Alasdair started towards her, thinking to support her, but she waved him away.

"I am well, thank you. You may leave the circle now. Grianne sends you her love, and hopes you are successful."

Each of them stopped to shake the witch by the hand before she pushed them from her shop, her apparently irritable manner hiding her concern for them. "Get her out of there, and keep her safe. She is important to more than you. May the goddess protect you."

With those words, she locked the door behind them, and the three would-be rescuers made for the Council building, the two vampires flanking the single human.

This time, Spike entered through the front door. It seemed the simplest way to gauge the remaining security while still leaving themselves a simple way out. After all, they could always pretend to be tourists who wandered into the building by mistake, as long as none of them was recognised.

They needn't have worried. Inside, the one security guard manning the reception desk slept peacefully in his chair. He had a colleague at another desk next to the stairwell and main lifts, and he was also asleep. The three made for the stairs, Spike in the lead, and headed down to the basement.

When they reached the office Spike had seen Michael Barrat go into, Spike tried the door. It was locked. He grinned in delight and said, "No need to keep quiet tonight," as he kicked it in.

Inside was a plush but standard office. There was a desk, and on that a computer. An unknown woman slumped on the chair in front of the keyboard. While Spike and Buffy looked around, trying to find some sort of exit, Alasdair looked at the computer. It was switched on, and there was a floppy disc in the drive.

He hit the keyboard once, and the machine came out of stand-by. A password was required to log on again, and after a few half hearted attempts to guess at what sort of password Michael might use, Alasdair gave up and pocketed the floppy. He turned to see how the two vampires were doing. Spike had been painstakingly tapping on the walls, trying to find some sort of different acoustic which would imply a hidden doorway. Buffy was watching him, a wry smile on her face as she followed his progress around the room.

"You might want to help instead of doing a cheshire cat impersonation," he snarked, catching sight of her face.

"Just enjoying the view," she answered him, "and you seem to be doing so well."

Alasdair was momentarily annoyed at them for their light-hearted attitude. Had he been quicker tempered, he might have said something before he realised that the flippancy was simply the way these two had of dealing with pressure. They really did care about finding Emily, almost as much as he did.

With a grunt of pleasure, Spike found what he was looking for. The wall was apparently a partition between the office and next door, but it sounded much more substantial than the rest of the partitions. Rather than looking for some sort of subtle opening device, Spike started kick the wall, and Buffy joined in a moment later.

In no time, the plasterboard had been removed to reveal a doorway. Another kick from a boot-clad foot, and the door gave way, revealing a flight of stairs leading down.

"Right, folks," Spike told the others. "It's decision time. We can all go down, or someone can stay here to watch our escape route. What do you think?"

"I'm going," Alasdair replied.

"Me too," said Buffy. "She might need another woman there," she started to explain.

"And I'm not letting you out of my sight," Spike added. "Guess that answers the question."

With that, Spike started down the stairs with the others close behind.

The stairs led down to a corridor. This area was noticeably newer than the rest of the building. The corridor had an antiseptic feel to it, and when they came to a door, the room beyond looked like a cross between a lab and an operating theatre. It was empty.

Further along the corridor, they found another three such rooms, each of them deserted. The fourth they found was also devoid of people, but there were definite signs of recent occupation. There were a number of implements lying around, among them a bloody stake, and a contraption that looked like a circular saw.

Spike picked up the stake, running his finger along it. He sniffed his finger cautiously, then took a taste. "It's hers, I'd swear to it," he informed the others. Alasdair paled when he heard those words. "Do you think they've .."

"Staked her?" Spike finished. "Don't know. There's not too much dust around here, and you don't get blood when you stake a vampire."

They left that room and searched the rest of the corridor, finding a large room divided into a number of cells. All but one of the cells were empty. As soon as he saw a single trolley in one cell, Alasdair ran to it, thinking he had found Emily. Spike's keen sense of smell convinced him that Alasdair was wrong, but he obligingly tried to force open the door. His best efforts made no impression, so Buffy lent her strength to the effort, and they managed to pull it off by the hinges.

The sight that greeted them caused a stunned silence, and left Alasdair lurching to the corner to bring up the remains of his evening meal.

The vampire was mercifully unconscious. His entire body was covered in burns and lacerations of various sizes and shapes. Even in his unconscious state, his face was pulled into a mask of suffering. The two vampires exchanged a look. With a nod, Spike agreed to Buffy's silent question. She took a stake out of her waistband, and thrust it into the vampire's chest, turning him to dust. 

They checked the rest of the corridor, but found nothing. With no further clues, they returned to the lab that had shown signs of use.

"We know she was here," Buffy reasoned. "So, she either left the way we came in, or there's another exit."

Alasdair nodded, asking, "But where?"

With a shrug, Spike started kicking the walls again adding, "Don't know, but I plan on having some fun finding out."

They found the door. It was made of metal, and obviously operated electrically. Spike tried to prise it open, but couldn't budge it. Even when Buffy helped, it wouldn't move. They found a metal bar and tried to use it as a lever, but all that happened was that the bar bent.

Checking around the room for something heavy enough to do some damage to the doors, Spike could find nothing likely to be more useful than his own booted foot. He started kicking, giving it everything he had, but the door just seemed to absorb everything he gave it. It didn't dent, it didn't scratch, it didn't even lose the mirror shine it had.

While this was going on, Alasdair ventured upstairs again. What he saw sent him scurrying back downstairs again.

"She's coming to," he told the others.

"What?" Spike asked over the noise of his attempts to weaken the door.

"The woman at the desk. She's coming too. Looks like the sleep spell's wearing off."

The mouthful of expletives that Spike shouted at that information was almost enough to make Buffy blush, but they all knew they had no choice. They had to get out.

Alasdair was despondent during the journey back to Swiss Cottage. He was quiet, even for him, and the waves of fear coming from him were impossible for the two vampires to ignore. Spike drove Alasdair's car, with Buffy in the back, keeping an eye on the human. The last thing they needed was for him to do something silly.

When they got back, the phone was ringing. Buffy ran to pick up, and was greeted with Andrea's voice. "Well?" she asked expectantly.

"She wasn't there," Buffy answered, keeping her voice down.

"She wasn't? But, Grianne was so sure. I mean,…"

"She was there, recently. We found some blood, but …"

Buffy found she was struggling not to give way to the sobs which were welling up in her. She had been so sure that they would rescue Emily tonight, and that tomorrow, they would find a way to do the same for Giles.

Jenny came into the room as Buffy hung up.

"I was feeding Stephen," she explained, looking at the others with a question on her face.

Buffy just shook her head, feeling unable to speak. Alasdair hadn't come into the lounge at all. When Buffy noticed, she flashed a questioning look at Spike who answered, "He went to his room," and came and put his arms around Buffy.

They stood there for a couple of minutes, just taking comfort in the other's presence, then Jenny asked, "What happened?"

Speaking quietly, to be sure Alasdair didn't hear, Spike told her. Jenny threw herself down on the nearest chair. Her face crumpled with anguish, both for Alasdair and Emily, but also for her own situation. She had been so sure that it was Emily's turn to be freed tonight, and that Giles would follow soon afterwards. They had fallen at the first fence, and she was no longer sure there was any point in getting up again. She gave way to the tears she hadn't shed earlier in the day. The children were asleep, and she didn't have to be strong for them any more. She wept for all of them.

Silently, Buffy disengaged herself from Spike and went to sit beside the other woman, gently cradling her in her arms as she cried herself out.


	11. Chapter 11 Two Changes of Fortune

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Chapter 11 - Two Changes of Fortune

It was a hard night for all of them. It was well into the morning before the lights were out and the occupants of the flat were making some pretence of sleep. Something of the atmosphere even affected the children, as Lizzie was restless, and Stephen woke more often than usual.

*-*-*

When Grianne heard the news from Andrea, she called an immediate meeting of all the senior members of the coven. She outlined her new plan, and, as expected, met with substantial opposition. She argued, cajoled, shouted and persuaded for several hours in succession. In the end, she didn't know whether she had won the argument, or simply worn them all down.

*-*-*

It was still dark, or at least he thought so, but the all-pervading cold had become such a part of his existence, that Giles simply couldn't remember being warm. He had had no human contact during his captivity. Meals appeared through a hatch in the door that he hadn't noticed during his initial perusal of his cell. Every attempt he had made to try to see, or talk to, whoever put the food there, had failed.

He had tried a few simple spells in an attempt to escape. He knew many which didn't need any particular ingredients, but none of these had worked. He had ample knowledge, but he was simply not a powerful enough practitioner. He also suspected that some sort of dampening spell was being used on the cell. It didn't seem to obliterate magic altogether, because he sometimes saw tell-tale flickers of light that should have meant that the spell had worked, but that was all.

He spent the rest of his time reliving his life. He remembered details from his own childhood he thought he had forgotten. He relived the sadness of hearing of Buffy's death and the joy of finding she was happy with her new existence. He relived his courtship of Jenny, his wedding day and the arrival of his two children. 

For variety, he tried to remember the exact wording of various texts he had studied in the past, and was pleasantly surprised at how much he recalled.

He tried very hard not to simply lose hope. He desperately wanted to know that the others, particularly his wife and children, were safe.

He had wakened from a dream a short while earlier, and lay huddled in his only blanket. He was willing his blood to circulate to his extremities, as he was having difficulty feeling his fingers and toes. He wondered that it was so cold this early in the year, but put it down to the underground location. Logically, it wasn't that cold, but, with the dampness pervading the atmosphere, his resistance to such things was low.

At first he thought he was dreaming. An eerie light filled his cell, and he watched it with detached curiosity, believing it to be a figment of his own imagination. When the door to his cell swung open, he started to take notice. He pinched himself, and winced as his cold arm hurt from the pressure. He sat up, and approached the doorway. Outside was the dimly lit corridor he had seen through the grill, but there was no sign of anyone.

He looked both ways, and noticed the light was brighter in one direction than the other. He walked towards the light source, and soon came to a larger room. It was deserted. He quickly crossed the room, and climbed a flight of stairs at the other side. Two more flights of stairs followed the first, and he walked to the top, taking care to move as quietly as he could. At the top of the stairs, he found he was in a room which was brightly lit and pleasantly warm. Through the doorway, he found himself in a large entrance hall. The huge front door was wide open.

Not understanding what was going on, and hoping it was not a trap of some sort, Giles bolted for the door, and found himself outside . He stood for a second, deciding which way to go, when the door behind him creaked slowly shut. He walked down the stairs to the driveway, regretting the fact that it was covered with gravel. There was no way to walk across it silently, so he took what seemed to be the shortest route to the grass on the other side.

Once there, he looked around again, surprised there was no sign of anyone following. He spotted a faint glow in the bushes. He could think of nothing to account for the glow, but, remembering the glow in his cell earlier, he approached cautiously. The light grew brighter as he pulled branches away to get closer.

At last, he pulled one last frond out of the way, and the sight that assailed him made his heart leap for joy. Grianne was standing there, glowing gently, her arms held out to welcome him. Giles stepped forwards, and hugged the witch. As he did so, the glowing slowly faded, and the two were left in darkness.

Giles had so many questions, he didn't know what to ask first, but Grianne put a finger over her lips, and he nodded his agreement. "We're going to leave now," she whispered, and Giles felt the wind pick up around him. It whirled wildly, and he no longer felt the ground beneath his feet.

He didn't know how much longer the sensation continued, but after a few seconds, or minutes, he felt his feet hit the ground, and the whirling ceased. He slowly became aware of being indoors. He was shivering, and someone was putting a blanket around his shoulders. He flinched away from it, suddenly aware of how dirty he was, but the hands were insistent.

He was in a small lounge. Grianne was there, and another woman, mousy with grey eyes. "Where am I?" he asked.

"You're in Maria's home, in London. Why don't you go and shower, and I'll organise some food." Grianne seemed full of energy.

"I've got to call Jenny," Giles argued.

"It's still early, five o'clock," Grianne reminded him.

"Still, she deserves to know."

"She's in London, staying with Alasdair. The number's on the pad." She pointed to a telephone on the table.

Giles realised he was trembling as he dialled the number. He wasn't sure how much of it was due to cold, and how much to shock. There was a delay before someone picked up at the other end.

"Do you know what time it is?" The voice on the other end made no attempt to hide the owner's irritation at being wakened after only a couple of hours sleep.

"Spike, it's Giles."

This reply was met with silence for a second or two.

"Spike, are you there?"

"Giles! Where are you? What happened?"

"I'll tell you later. Can I speak to Jenny?"

"'Course, mate."

Giles heard the receiver being dropped onto a table. Seconds later, Jenny was there.

Spike went to give Buffy the news, letting Jenny talk in private. Needless to say, she was relieved to know that he was back in touch. The two vampires sat in silence, waiting for a sign that the call was over. When it came, they ran into the lounge to find Jenny sitting with her head in her hands. Exchanging a look with Spike, Buffy joined Jenny on the sofa. She gently lifted the other woman's head and looked questioningly at her.

"He's ok. He's in London, and he'll be here in an hour or two."

Buffy grinned, and Jenny's expression changed to match. A moment later, the shock had gone, and the two women were standing, holding hands, and jumping in small circles. Lizzie chose that moment to come into the room, fisting her hands in her eyes blearily. She looked at the two adults, doing a strange dance, then walked over to Spike.

"Why are Mummy and Buffy being silly?"

Spike laughed, and picked up the surprised child. He danced around the room with her until she was giggling, and her infectious laughter maintained the atmosphere. They were joined a few moments later by Alasdair. He was relieved to hear about Giles, but disappointed that the news wasn't about Emily. He left the others quickly, and Spike went to follow him, but Buffy put a hand on his arm to stop him. "He needs to be alone," she told him.

Clean and fed, Giles got in a cab to travel from Mayfair to Swiss Cottage. He was accompanied by Grianne, and tapped his fingers impatiently on the seat between them as the cab got held up in rush hour traffic.

By the time he arrived, the atmosphere at the flat had risen to something between a party and hysteria. Because he had taken longer than he had said, Jenny was pacing nervously around the room. Lizzie just knew that her dad was coming back, and had been chatting incessantly since she heard the news. Stephen joined in by waking and screaming loudly for food and a change of nappy.

The knock at the door, when it came, wouldn't have been heard had it not been for enhanced vampiric hearing. As Spike got up to answer, Jenny was suddenly frozen to the spot.

Giles entered the room and walked straight to Jenny. They were immediately joined by Lizzie, who insinuated herself into their hug. Jenny extricated herself, and went to get Stephen, bringing him to his father.

Grianne approached the two vampires, hugging them, then asking where Alasdair was. When they told her, she went to the bedroom to bring him back.

It was some time before Giles even noticed the others. When he did, he had a hug for Buffy, and a rather restrained hand-shake for Spike. Alasdair re-entered the room then, Grianne's arm around his shoulders.

When all the greetings were complete, and Lizzie had told her father about her own adventures in London, Jenny took the two children into the kitchen for breakfast.

Giles clearly wanted to follow them, but knew it was imperative that they all share their information as soon as possible. They started with Spike, Buffy and Alasdair telling their story. Giles' followed, and it was much shorter. When that was finished, Grianne explained her part in recent events.

"I took the precaution, the last time we were together, of taking a sample of hair from each of you. I hope you don't think that presumptuous, but I had my reasons, and I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily. Those hair samples have enabled me to find you, Giles, and to know that Emily was at the Council of Watchers headquarters. Unfortunately, her essence left there just before you arrived. I can no longer sense her location, but I believe she is still alive."

"But, you're not certain." Alasdair's eyes were glistening with tears. 

"No, I cannot be certain. The spell I use to find someone, normally gives me a trace which allows me to identify their location. On the few occasions that have used the spell when the subject was dead, there was no trace. In Emily's case, I got a trace, but it wasn't specific to a location. The trace was dissipated, somehow. Not localised. As it is, I have never had this particular result before. I'm don't know for sure what it could mean."

She paused to let this news sink in. "I have been keeping another secret from you, and for that I beg your forgiveness." Four pairs of eyes held hers as she continued.

"The coven to which I belong is ancient. It has existed for so long, our history is obscure. We have been linked since our earliest days to the Council of Watchers. In the early days, our aims were the same, and there was no conflict. In more recent times, there has been a divergence, and for that reason, while we have continued to support the Council, we have allowed the details of our coven to be hidden from the Council. They know of its existence, but they believe it to be small and all but bereft of power."

"In the beginning, we shared a secret. A prophecy, someone who would mean the end of Slayers as we know them. Something was going to happen which would supply, if necessary, an army of Slayers stronger than the humans from which they sprang. The prophecy was kept secret in the early days, for fear that powerful demons would act to prevent its fulfilment. More recently, it has been kept secret, even within the Council, for altogether more mundane and less honourable reasons."

She went on to explain about the New. She had made no attempt to link the prophecy with Emily, but did specify some of the requirements which had to be met. It was Buffy who made the link.

"You think it's Emily!"

"I thought so, almost from the beginning of her new existence. Now, I am certain."

Alasdair seemed to have lost the power of speech, and sat, silently. It was still obvious to anyone who looked at him, that he was unhappy about what Grianne was saying.

Grianne carried on her description, detailing the reasons that the Council of Watchers would have for wanting to ensure that the New never came into being. "I suspect it was Michael Barrat who was responsible for Emily being taken in the first place. He probably knew nothing about the prophecy, but instead had personal reasons for hurting Emily. Unfortunately, one of the standard tests the Council carries out on vampires is to check the effects of crosses and holy water. I believe Emily would have been immune, and that news of her immunity reached those who have full knowledge of the prophecy. They would therefore want to destroy her. I don't believe Emily has achieved her full power yet. It has been growing since she was changed, but there is no indication of how long the change will take. It could vary depending on the individual or even the circumstances."

Spike looked confused. "What do you mean, the individual? If it's Emily, then how could it vary with the individual?"

"Once she is at her full power, any vampire made by Emily will be like her. Not immediately, but over time, they will take on the same characteristics as Emily - increased strength, speed and healing capability. They will also be immune to holy objects."

"So, what do we do?" Alasdair had found his voice.

"Well, first we need to find out what happened to her. We have to assume that the Council still has her, but we need to find out where she is. The only reason I can think of for the signal I'm getting is that she's actually no longer in this world, but has been removed to another."

*-*-*

Lucien Spencer arrived at his office that morning happier than he had been for some time. Their not-so-little problem had been dealt with, and they could return to the day to day business of fighting evil in the way they had for centuries.

As he disappeared behind a pile of paperwork which had materialised during the previous couple of days, he wondered exactly why he had been so keen to take on the job of Master in the first place. It was an idle thought, of course, he knew the answer was power. He quite literally had the power of life and death over, not only demons, but humans too.

He was amused at the buzz of conversation as he arrived through the main entrance. The talk was all about Michael Barrat, and how he would be missed. The man had been considered a prat by many, and few had a good word to say about him while he lived. Now that he was dead, it was another story. There was due to be a funeral the next day, and a memorial service at the large Parish Church close to the Council Headquarters a week later. Spencer would, of course, attend both. As Master, it was his duty. He expected to be invited to read the Lesson at the funeral service, and he would naturally be asked to say a few words at the memorial service.

Irritatedly, he pushed aside the papers on his desk, and entered his password into his computer. He pulled up personnel records, and went to the entries for Michael Barrat. He pulled together enough details of the other man's life to do a creditable job, then forwarded it to his secretary with instructions to pull together a suitable eulogy.

He flitted through the events of the previous evening, remembering the fear which clutched at him at the prospect that they had been too late to end the threat of the New. His confidence when he dismissed Jeanette was largely artificial. He thought it likely that the Phoenix could succeed where they had failed, but he was not certain until he arrived at the basement. He had explained the situation, at least in the simple terms comprehensible to the demon, and had been gratified to find that no problem was expected. He had been pleased to see a blue flame come from the creature's clawed hand and ignite the vampire. When the glow faded, there was nothing left of the threat.

He considered the Phoenix. He served the Council without reward. He wondered exactly what sort of reward would be appreciated by such a creature. As far as Spencer knew, the demon was the only one of his kind. He had never seemed to require companionship. He was unmoved by human riches. He went about his tasks, even those involving the death of another creature, with efficiency rather than enjoyment. He was an enigma.

His telephone rang then, and he picked it up. The line was a private one, accessible only to those considered important in the Council Hierarchy. The call was from Sir Earnest Willoughby, and the news was not good. Rupert Giles had escaped. He suspected witchcraft, but had no evidence.

Cursing quietly, Spencer hung up. Giles' escape could prove embarrassing, but with the New destroyed, he could do little harm. More worrying was the news that witchcraft had been used. He immediately contacted the team in Ireland which was holding Grianne Sullivan. The news from there was worse. When someone was sent to actually check on the witch, it became apparent that she was gone. Worse, judging by the food lying around the room she had supposedly been kept in, she had never been there.

He immediately called a conference of all those employees of the Council who were magically talented. He was irritated to find that a number had simply failed to report for work two days previously, and had not been seen since. A little research soon showed that they were all members of the same coven as Grianne. Even Eleanor Price, a distant member of his own family, was apparently on holiday abroad. Alarm bells were ringing loud in his head as he considered his next step.

The main problem had been dealt with, of that he was certain. His concern was simple. Vengeance. Grianne was known to have been fond of the Stevenson girl. If she knew, or suspected who was responsible for her demise, she could make things very difficult for him and anyone else she considered culpable. 

Spencer walked to his private lift, and the door opened as he approached. He keyed the command for the sub basement, and descended.

For the first time ever, there was no sign of the Phoenix. The master knew he must have an exit from his lair beneath the ground, but he had never seen any sign of it. From time to time he brought other demons into the area, like the vampire who had killed Michael Barrat. Despite that, there had never been an occasion when the Master had descended to find the sub basement deserted. 

He had intended to ask the Phoenix to help with the Grianne problem, but that would have to wait. As he was about to leave, he heard something. Thinking it must be the Phoenix returning, he walked towards the sound. To his terror, what he saw was the vampire who was responsible for tearing Barrat apart. He was unconstrained, and he was approaching fast.

His heart hammering in his chest, Spencer ran towards the lift. He fingered the control in his pocket, planning on the door already being open when he reached it. He just hoped he could get it closed quickly enough that it only had a single passenger.

He ran, his eyes glued to the lift door, willing it to open, but it remained stubbornly shut. He pressed the control maniacally, but it just wouldn't work. When the control wouldn't work, reason left him, and he started to thump on the titanium doors. His voice became more and more shrill as he heard the footsteps approach from behind. The vampire was no longer running, realising that his quarry had no means of escape. He was almost sauntering towards the human, his face a demonic mask of anticipation.

Spencer's voice was becoming quieter as he realised he had no escape. He turned around, thinking to negotiate with the demon, explaining how angry the Phoenix would be if he, the Master of the Council was hurt in any way. The demon gave no sign of comprehension, and grabbed Spencer by the arm, breaking a bone as he clutched at it. Spencer screamed in agony, and then again in terror as the vampire's fangs descended to the human's body. They ripped into the flesh of his arm, tearing and rending. Blood spattered the pristine doors and dripped onto the floor. Spencer was no longer able to scream, but instead whimpered pitifully as his life blood drained. The whimpering continued for a surprising time.

The vampire was mad, of course. That didn't mean he wasn't thorough. He had long ago perfected his method of killing. It wasn't about the blood, although that was certainly enjoyable. It was about the fear. For that reason, he intentionally kept his victims alive for as long as possible. He prided himself on that. Of course, he couldn't manage days. Once the jugular was pierced, death would occur quickly despite his precautions, so he always began with other, less vulnerable parts of the body. Nonetheless, he had a feeling that this time, his long-standing record might just be broken.


	12. Chapter 12 Peace For Some

****

Chapter 12 - Safe

Emily Stevenson knew she was dead. In an intellectual way, she understood that she had been dead for over a year. Despite that, she had never considered herself anything other than alive. Now it was different. She must be dead. She could think of no other possibility. Of course, the whole theology regarding the fate of vampires, once their tenure on the earth was over, was misty. None had ever come back to confirm the theories. Of course, the most popular theory was that they went to Hell. There was no definition of which particular hell dimension they went to, but it was generally believed to be a very unpleasant place.

Emily didn't find her location at all unpleasant. The pain she remembered from when? Something told her she had recently been in pain, but the memory was hazy, like a half-forgotten dream. There was no pain now. She considered the possibility that where she was would be unpleasant for your average vampire. She knew she wasn't an average vampire. She had never killed a human. She had never felt the urge to. She knew that she would have allowed herself to starve before she would do such a thing. She was certainly not a typical vampire, but she still dismissed the idea that any creature could find her current situation particularly unpleasant.

She started to consider how she felt. Adjectives came into her mind, and were all dismissed as inadequate. Warm. Safe. Content. Secure. Happy. Home. 

There was nothing about how she felt that was threatening. Even in the throes of the most pleasant physical sensations she had experienced, there was the knowledge that they would end. Even if they were renewable experiences, they didn't last. There was nothing precarious about how she felt. There was no sense that it would, or could, ever end or pall in any way. 

Her thoughts drifted to Alasdair. She knew he was worried, but even her sadness for him had a peace about it that almost changed the feeling to its opposite. She had no idea of how long she had been where she was. Time didn't seem to have meaning, she simply was.

She didn't see the creature which watched over her. The Phoenix had assumed his preferred shape, and a single glance explained the name he used. He was a bird. His feathers had a pearlescent nature, their colours shading from cream around his beak through to palest pinks and lilacs on his tail. His wings shaded from blue through to green. Despite the apparent cacophony of colour, there was nothing discordant in his appearance. Somehow, the colours changed so subtly that he was quite simply a living masterpiece. Of course, that was exactly what he had intended.

As he watched, he thought over the thousand years he had spent on his task. He felt excitement welling within him as he realised that his purpose was coming to an end. Of course, there would always be another purpose. There was also concern that the final result would not be the one for which he had worked. There was still so much that could go wrong.

It was a relief to shuck off the appearance he had maintained during his contact with humans. He had calculated minutely and come to the conclusion that the one he had chosen was the one least likely to arouse suspicion among the humans with whom he had to deal. They expected demons to be ugly, and he had given them what they expected. Beauty was always suspect.

*-*-*

Once they had traded information, Grianne left the others again to return to Maria's flat above the health food shop in Mayfair. She told them it was magically shielded, and therefore safer for her. She suspected that the Council already did, or soon would, find out that she was free, and she expected to be attacked. She promised to work with Maria to find out more about Emily, and left the others to celebrate Giles' return.

It was Buffy's idea. Spike really didn't approve, but she made it clear that she might withhold certain privileges if he didn't agree, and so he did. Of course, he wasn't actually as irritated at the idea as he pretended, but he had an image to maintain. There was a new Disney film showing at the local cinema, and there were afternoon showings during half term. Lizzie was desperate to see it, and the vampires knew that, with judicious use of trees and underpasses, they could get there without exposing themselves to sunlight. Accordingly, Stephen was strapped into his push chair, and Lizzie given specific instructions on how to behave around vampires. A special reminder not to run off - especially into the sunshine - was met with disdain. She put her hands on her hips and huffed at the stupidity of adults. Of **course** she knew about vampires and sunlight. She wasn't stupid!

Alasdair declined the invitation to join them, saying he preferred to catch up on some sleep. The cinema-goers left, and Alasdair retreated to his bedroom, leaving Giles and Jenny alone. They were soon also in their room, and so involved in being together again, that for a short while, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

By the time the film was over, it was dark. Accordingly, the walk home was more leisurely, and circuitous. They spent some time in a toy shop, and stopped off for pizza. Buffy fed Stephen from a bottle provided by Jenny. Truth be told, he was the one thing Buffy had worried about. It was one thing to deal with a child who can communicate with you, but it was another to cope with a baby. To her relief, Stephen had slept all the way through the film, and was pacified by the movement of the pushchair when they left. He only started to get irritable when that movement stopped.

They got home later than they intended, but a call while they were eating pizza had set Giles' and Jenny's minds at rest. They went into the flat with Lizzie excitedly telling her parents about the film. They both looked relaxed and happy, and in Jenny's case, significantly younger than the day before. Jenny was trying to hush Lizzie, in case she woke Alasdair. Spike was surprised that Alasdair had slept so long, and went to his door to check. The lack of an audible heartbeat on the other side of the door alarmed him, so he opened the door to find the room empty, and no sign that the bed had been occupied recently.

Giles was readying the children for bed when Spike came back with the news. He told Buffy and Jenny what was happening. Jenny got up to go and take over bath duties from her husband, when Spike told her to sit down.

"Buffy and I'll try to find him. You just enjoy being a family again."

Jenny smiled gratefully. She had more or less decided not to let Giles out of her sight again.

****

Alasdair had listened to the celebrations bitterly. He was glad to see Giles too, but the most important person to him - Emily - was still missing, probably still being used as a vivisection subject by the Council of Watchers. He knew he was being uncharitable, but he felt bitter towards the others. 

Even worse than noisy celebrations, was the quiet that followed. It wasn't silent. It was quite obvious that Giles and Jenny were enjoying some 'couple' time. When the sounds retreated to the bedroom, Alasdair quietly made his move.

There was only one thing on his mind as he started his car. The Council Headquarters. That was where she was. They were responsible.

It was mid afternoon when he arrived. He had calmed a little, and had decided to simply walk in and see what happened. It wasn't much of a plan, but he didn't have anything better.

To his surprise, he wasn't challenged. He showed his pass and was waved through. Deciding his luck was in, he headed for his own office. Several people expressed surprise at seeing him, but he didn't respond beyond a smile and a shrug. He reached his own desk and was surprised to find a note in his diary to the effect that he would be out of the office for an indeterminate period.

While he was reading that, the group secretary came in. "Alasdair. What are you doing back? You're supposed to be in the States."

"Change of plan," he replied.

The woman's face became a mask of sadness. "Isn't it terrible?"

"What?"

"Michael Barrat? Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?"

"He's dead. Vampire attack. The funeral's tomorrow. And, there's something else going on. They're not telling us what, but you know how it is. There are rumours. I heard the Master has disappeared."

Two shocks in a few seconds in his already delicate emotional condition left Alasdair bereft of speech. Seeing this, the woman left him, remembering that the Highlander tended to be a man of few words.

He didn't understand. If Barrat's dead, what did that mean? It seemed a bit coincidental that the man apparently responsible for Emily's abduction just turned up dead. He cast his mind back to what Grianne told them. He realised what must have happened. When Emily's status was recognised, Barrat was killed to ensure the information didn't leak. But what did the bit about the Master mean? Was it just a red herring? Or was there something significant going on?

He was considering his next move when the security alarm started to sound. He stood up quickly, panicked by the sound. 

"Seventh time today!" someone at a nearby desk complained. "I wish they'd just tell us what the hell's going on!"

Alasdair decided not to wait. This most recent alarm might be nothing to do with him, but he didn't want to take the chance. He headed for the main door, trying not to look as if he was in a hurry. He reached it to find a number of people standing by the main door, waiting for the end of the security alert. He joined them, adding his own grumbles to theirs, until the alert over siren was heard. Heaving a sigh of relief, Alasdair left the building. 

He returned to the car, considering his next move. His first inclination was to find somewhere to get drunk. He remembered the night he met Spike, when the vampire had decided on that exact 'cure' for his problems. That wouldn't help. He thought some more, and decided on a different course of action.

*-*-*

Spike and Buffy arrived at Green Park station, and headed towards the Council headquarters. They weren't sure what they should or could do when they arrived. On impulse, Spike suggested paying Grianne a visit before they did anything else. The flat above the shop where Maria had done her spells was on the way anyway, and they reasoned Grianne might be able to help.

They were surprised to find Alasdair's car parked close to the shop, and the two vampires increased their rate of walking. They were welcomed cautiously, and taken upstairs. Grianne was holding a sobbing Alasdair in her arms, rocking him as she sat on the sofa. It looked incongruous, but Grianne nodded to the others as they entered, gesturing them to sit down. Alasdair seemed not to have noticed.

Maria had bustled out of the room and returned a little later with a tray laid for tea. She busied herself putting milk in the cups, and asking preferences regarding sugar, before pouring the tea from a china teapot.

Something in the clinking of teacups on saucers seemed to filter into Alasdair's consciousness in a way nothing else had. He looked up, bewildered to see his friends surrounding him. He immediately looked embarrassed, but Spike took pity on him. "So, why didn't you tell us you were going visiting? We could have come with you."

Alasdair looked confused for a second before telling them, "I went to the Council headquarters."

"Didn't you learn your lesson last time?" Spike shouted.

Alasdair looked a little guilty at that. "There wasn't a problem. I just walked in, and no one said a thing. Of course, that might be because security's in a mess there today. Apparently Michael Barrat's dead. He was killed by a vampire. And, there's a rumour that the Master's missing. No one's saying anything official, but …"

The others were silent while they assimilated that. 

"Couldn't 've happened to a nicer bloke!" Spike pronounced. "I'd have liked to have done it myself, though. Never did like that blighter Barrat."

"So," Buffy intervened, digging Spike in the ribs as she did so. "What about the Master? Any way we can find out?"

Grianne thought for a second before answering. "There might be, let me make a call."

She disappeared for a few minutes. During her absence, Spike and Buffy made small talk with Maria to let Alasdair have some more time to collect himself. When Grianne reappeared, she was smiling.

"I've contacted Eleanor. If anyone can find out what's happening, she can. She's officially abroad at the moment, but she's one of a very small number of people who are trusted with the innermost secrets of the Council. She's going to call around, and get back to us as soon as she can."

The news when it came was better than expected. Eleanor could confirm that the Master had indeed disappeared. The families who controlled the Council were in turmoil as a result. Some factions were actually accusing others of being responsible for his disappearance. There was nothing to suggest that it was anything to do with Emily. As far as the family was concerned, that matter was finalised. Eleanor confirmed that the details of the prophecy had been discussed by the senior committee, and that its members had been told that the problem had been eliminated the night of the abortive rescue.

The extra news had come directly from Jeanette Borkett. She had given Eleanor the information that all standard efforts to eliminate Emily had failed, and that the Master had decided to do something secret.

"It doesn't make sense," was Buffy's opinion. "I mean, Barrat, maybe. But why would the Master be missing?"

Spike shrugged, and Grianne seemed similarly lost for an explanation. "I think we need to do one of two things. We should let Giles have access to the actual writings about the New. His experience may allow him to shed some further light on things." Grianne paused to acknowledge the nods from around the room. "I also need to investigate Emily's whereabouts more thoroughly. Maria and I were discussing a possibility before Alasdair arrived." 

Grianne got up and went to another room, returning a few moments later with some papers. "These are the documents Giles needs to see. I've got the best translation to which we have access, and the originals. They are both copies - the originals are much too frail to be transported around. You can hardly believe the fuss I had trying to get the coven to let even these off the premises!"

She handed the papers to Buffy, looking at each of her friends in turn. They all looked tired. "Go back and get some sleep. Maria and I will do what we can, and I'll call you in the morning."

She approached Alasdair, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I haven't given up yet, not by a long way. We'll get her back if there's any way it can be done."

Alasdair nodded at Grianne. He wasn't sure he believed her, but he allowed her faith to instil some resurgence of hope in him anyway. He followed the two vampires into the street outside the shop, and from there to his car. They drove back to Swiss Cottage in silence, each determined to be ready to act when Grianne provided any inkling of where Emily might be.


	13. Chapter 13 At the End of the Corridor

****

Chapter 13 - At the End of the Corridor

Grianne called early the next morning, asking Buffy, Spike and Alasdair to come over as soon as possible. Giles was relieved to be able to stay, as he had spent a good part of the previous night reading the documents provided by Grianne. He had covered the parts which were already understood, but was concerned about another part of the information, which he believed had been wrongly translated. Unwilling to go to the Council library, he instead planned to go to one of the local University libraries, where he might find a particular text on translating ancient Sumerian. He called some friends, and was eventually offered the chance to go into the library at Imperial College. After a quick shower, he headed off. 

The others convened at Maria's flat. Since it was daytime, the shop was open, but Maria had left the shop in the hands of her assistant for the day so that she could help Grianne.

Grianne started by explaining what she had in mind. "We tried a number of things last night, but only one yielded anything out of the ordinary. I decided to concentrate on the building. We don't know where Emily is, but we know where she last was. Now, the spell that interested me, was one I only thought of doing as a last resort. It's a sort of structural integrity thing - and, to be honest, it tends to be considered rather more as a party trick than a useful spell. Rather than describing what I saw, I thought I'd reproduce the spell now."

At these words, Maria started to assemble a number of ingredients, a burner and, curiously enough, a map. She laid the objects on a small table in front of Grianne, who arranged them to her satisfaction.

"I use the map to indicate the location of the building which is our subject - in this case, the headquarters of the Council of Watchers. As I perform the spell, you will see an image of the building form in the air. There won't be a great deal of detail, but I still think you'll be surprised at what you see."

She began the incantation, sprinkling powders in the small fire contained in the miniature burner. As smoke began to rise, it took on the shape of the Council Headquarters. The smoke was grey in colour, but shaded to green where an entrance or window happened to be. That much was obvious quickly. What was more surprising was the way the building continued below ground level. They knew, of course, that the building had a basement, but were surprised to see a single shaft delving considerably deeper than any other part of the building. It went down, then levelled off, and there was a largish area there, which led to a long, narrow passage. About two-thirds of the way along its length, there was an exit, delineated in green as all the other exits had been. This exit was several hundred yards south of building itself. The corridor continued even further, showing something even more surprising. At the furthest part, the smoke became an inky black. There was nothing like it anywhere else on the likeness of the building.

Those who knew the building in any way studied the model, mentally linking the shaft and lower area with known landmarks. Gradually, the smoke dissipated, leaving nothing to show for its having existed at all.

Spike jumped up, excitedly, saying, "I knew it! That door we couldn't get through, that would have taken us into that shaft. I wish we'd had time, or maybe something to blow the door."

Buffy was more thoughtful. "Grianne, what was the meaning of the black area? I mean, the green, that was obvious, windows and doors. But what did the black mean?"

"That, my dear, is the biggest clue of all," Grianne replied. "As far as I can tell, the black denotes, quite simply, nothing. I don't mean nothing as in a dead end, I mean nothing as in an absence of matter. There is, quite literally, nothing at the end of that corridor. I take that to mean, a portal."

"So," Alasdair said, his enthusiasm building with every second. "Emily could be alive, but she could have been taken through that portal. But where? Where does it lead?"

"I'm afraid I can't help with that. You see, the spell can only help with things of this world. The only way we can find out is to go and look."

Alasdair got up, pulling on his jacket. "Come on, then" he urged the others.

"Wait," Spike intervened. "How do we get in there? Even if we could get into the building with enough explosive to take out that door, we're not going to get out again without someone trying to stop us. And, I know some of you will want to minimise the human casualties. That corridor, it had an underground entrance. Buffy and I had a look underground the day we tried to rescue Emily. We didn't find anything, but it looks like we were looking too far north. The place we're looking for isn't under the Council building at all."

"I've got a tube map," Alasdair offered. "Maybe we can work out where the entrance might be from there."

A quick glance showed that that would not be possible. "The map's stylised. It doesn't actually represent distances too well. We need a better map. Where would we get that?" Spike asked.

"Library?" Buffy suggested. "I mean, research, library? They seem to go together. At least they did when I was in Sunnydale with Giles."

The others agreed with the suggestion, and Alasdair volunteered to go and find out. He had the advantage of not having to avoid sunlight, and Grianne wanted to be prepared with some spells for when they got to the portal.

While Alasdair was gone, the two witches consulted and assembled what they thought might be needed. Grianne also arranged for some food and blood to be delivered as she reasoned, "You don't know how long it'll take. We know nothing about the world through that portal. We need to be prepared."

When Alasdair returned with a copy of the map, they studied it in detail, and decided the most likely possibility seemed to be a link from the Victoria line, somewhere under St. James' Park.

When they had pulled together the best plan they could, they called Giles. Jenny reported that he had returned half an hour earlier, but was still to acknowledge her presence in any way. He had headed straight for his notes, and had been scribbling feverishly ever since. She agreed to call him to the phone, but judging by the delay, he was reluctant to come.

"Grianne," he started, "I really have to get back to work. I've translated most of the part I was concerned about, and I really want to finish it."

"Giles, we think we know where Emily is."

"You do? That's splendid. Where?"

"Well, 'where' is perhaps too precise. We think there's a portal under St. James' Park. There's an underground link between the Council building and this portal."

There was a stunned silence on the other end. "You mean she's actually been taken to another world? Another reality?"

"Well, we're not sure exactly what it is, except it's not this world. What have you found?"

"Well, as I said, I haven't finished, yet, but it seems that the New has been guarded by … something. I suspect there is no direct translation of whatever it is. This thing has been guarding the New for a long time. It was predicted that something would threaten the New, and that, if that came to pass, the New would be taken from this world. The original translation said the New would die. Your information certainly corroborates my feeling about the use of the words. The thing is, that, if this happens, if the New is removed from the world, someone from this world must win her back. We must prove ourselves worthy of such a gift. Since someone from this world wanted to destroy the gift, the balance must be redressed. There's more, but, as I said, I haven't finished. I get the impression that the clock's ticking, though. It implies the New can only survive for a certain amount of time once she has been taken."

Grianne started to explain what Giles had told her to the others clustered around her. When she had, Alasdair was on his feet again. "Then what're we waiting for?"

In fact, they were waiting for Grianne to agree they were ready. She insisted they all eat and rest before she allowed them to leave the flat. She also used a spell on Buffy and Spike to allow them to see beyond a magical shield. It seemed likely that, if there was an exit from the corridor to the Council building, then it would be shielded. By the time she decreed them ready, the sun was down, so the vampires were no longer at a disadvantage. They headed for Green Park and took the tube to St. James' Park. Part of the logic of that was to allow the vampires to watch for anything unusual in the tunnels. Of course, the tunnels were pitch black, but that was not a handicap to them. 

They both spotted it, just a hundred yards outside of St. James' Park station. There was definitely a door, but it was above floor level, and there were no steps. That tended to imply that it wasn't part of the official tunnel system. 

The four friends alighted from the train, and waited for the platform to clear. Grianne threw a handful of sand towards the security cameras, a spell she had explained would cause a temporary loss of signal, and they carefully climbed down off the platform onto the track. Taking care to keep clear of the electrified rail, they made their way to the doorway. They knew time was of the essence, as there was bound to be another train due soon. 

Grianne wasted no time, unlocking the door magically, and the vampires hoisted the two humans through the doorway before climbing in themselves. They pulled the door shut behind them, and heard the unmistakable sound of a train a few seconds later.

The corridor was dimly lit. There was something about it that was ageless. It didn't seem modern, but it didn't seem old either. The material of the floor seemed to be stone, but it was smooth, almost like plastic. The walls were made of a similar material, but these had a roughened texture. The colour was a golden brown. 

Maria had been left at home, but Grianne maintained a mental communication with her throughout. She in turn, was in contact with the rest of the Coven, and could provide a power boost if it was necessary.

A short discussion was held regarding direction. It seemed likely that the portal would be to the left, but Grianne insisted that they check out the opposite direction first. She didn't want any surprises creeping up behind them.

Accordingly, they made their way along the corridor, finally reaching another door. They opened it, surprised that it didn't seem locked in any way. When they were all through, the door swung shut of its own volition. When he turned around to look at it, Alasdair was surprised to find that the door had disappeared. He shouted out in alarm, and was met with consternation from the other three.

"It's gone!" he told them. "The door, it's gone."

"No, mate," Spike replied, putting out a hand and pulling it open again. As soon as it was open, Alasdair could see it quite clearly. "Just hidden, I reckon."

Alasdair nodded nervously. He was on edge. He just wanted to get through the portal and bring Emily back. Anything else was simply wasting time.

They found themselves in another corridor. There were several doors off it, but the rooms beyond appeared to be empty. The smell assaulted Spike's nostrils almost immediately, and he increased his pace, closely followed by Buffy. When Alasdair held out a hand to question their sudden interest, Buffy uttered a single word. "Blood."

The sight that met them at the end of the corridor left the two humans feeling distinctly unwell. That it had been human was obvious, but little else was. The clothing had been shredded, and the face was damaged beyond recognition. "Lucien Spencer?" Spike asked.

"Could be," Grianne replied.

To Alasdair's surprise, Spike knelt down beside the body, and started to rummage through what was left of the clothes. A few seconds later, he pulled out a small, black box. It looked like a remote control. Spike examined it for a few seconds before handing it to Alasdair. He continued his search, and found a wallet, the contents of which confirmed the identity of the body.

Alasdair had experimented with pressing a few buttons on the remote, and was surprised when the metal doors beside the body opened. He was relieved when they closed again. "Looks like the lift's controlled from here," he told the others, putting the control into his own pocket.

Spike stood up again, and looked at the others. "What do you say we head for the portal?"

They retraced their steps, passing the doorway through which they had entered the corridor. They hadn't gone far when a greenish glow became visible. They walked towards it slowly, taking in every nuance of its appearance. 

Distance was difficult to estimate, the glow seemed to be right in front of them, and yet they knew they hadn't reached it yet. The four friends were silent, but as they got closer, the two vampires pushed themselves to the front, motioning the two humans to follow.

Giles stood up suddenly. He had just pulled together another part of the text, and he ran to the phone. He had to speak to Grianne immediately. He found he couldn't get through to Grianne or any of the others, so he tried Maria's flat. Maria answered, and he explained his need to her. She started to pass the information to the other witch, but stopped suddenly. She lifted the receiver she had put down and spoke to Giles again. "It's too late."

Suddenly, they were gone. Grianne and Alasdair had been following the two vampires, just a couple of steps behind them, and suddenly they were gone, and what was worse, the green glow was gone. The portal had closed, an almost deafening noise like thunder accompanying its disappearance.

Grianne's head jerked up as Maria's message came into her head. She paled at the information, her hand seeking Alasdair's. He was looking stunned, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to put into words the disbelief he was feeling. He felt Grianne's hand reaching for his, and held onto it, looking at her, begging her for an explanation.

Grianne started to speak, instinctively raising her voice to allow for her still reverberating eardrums. "Giles has just translated more of the text. It says that only two can go through the portal." She paused then. That news was bad enough. The rest was worse. "And one of them will have to be a sacrifice."

They stood, wordless, unable to believe that their efforts to retrieve Emily were over. The combination of shock and the temporary loss of hearing was such that they didn't hear the door from the tube line close. They didn't see the vampire approaching. He grinned to himself as he saw his prey. 

Alasdair saw him coming, just an instant before he reached Grianne. He could do nothing to stop him as he swung his arm, knocking the witch off her feet and sending her into the wall of the corridor with a resounding thump.

Grianne lost consciousness as her head hit the wall, so she didn't see the vampire turn his attention to Alasdair. The Highlander lifted an arm to fight back, but his opponent grabbed it and used it to lift him off the floor. He swung him at the wall without letting go. Alasdair blacked out, and the vampire dropped him to the ground, following him down and sinking his fangs into his neck.

Grianne's first thought was that she was going to be sick. She fought off the nausea and opened her eyes carefully. As soon as she saw her surroundings, she remembered. She glanced over to where she had been standing with Alasdair, and saw him, lying on the floor, with a vampire drinking from his neck.

She tried not to move, not to give any indication that she had regained consciousness. A mental inventory of her back pack revealed only one possible weapon. She concentrated on the pencil she knew was in the front pocket of her bag. She willed the popper to open, and the pencil to exit. She mentally held it in front of her, willing her energy into it before sending it unerringly towards the vampire's heart.

As he exploded in a cloud of dust, she saw Alasdair's crumpled body, and got to her knees carefully. She wasn't sure she could trust herself on her feet yet.

She reached out a hand to Alasdair's wrist, but couldn't find a pulse. She put a finger to his throat, willing herself to feel something, and at last she knew she could. She pulled her reading glasses out of her pack and put them to his mouth, relieved when they steamed slightly.

She heard it then, the scream in her head that was Maria trying to reach her. She quickly explained the situation. There was no way she could trust herself to leave the way they came in, and she certainly couldn't get Alasdair out that way. It was just too dangerous. She remembered the remote control and checked Alasdair's pocket. With relief she found it. 

"I'll get him to the lift," she told Maria. "I may need some help, though. I'm feeling a bit woozy myself. Make sure there's an ambulance waiting. From what Eleanor told me, there's a private entrance to the Council building, and I'm hoping this lift will take me there. Be ready to give me a power boost if I need it. I may have to put someone to sleep."

Gathering her strength for a few seconds, she concentrated on Alasdair's prone body. She felt the surge as Maria lent her strength, and Alasdair gently floated a few inches off the ground. Grianne carefully got to her feet, and, holding onto the wall for support, made her way back to the lift. She had to raise Alasdair further to get him over the bloody mess that was all that remained of Lucien Spencer, and into the lift. Once there, she checked the remote, finding the button that would take them to the exit. She pressed it, and the doors closed.

It took a surprising time, but at last the doors opened. She stayed in the lift, waiting to see is someone would come. No one did, so she walked out, cautiously. The area outside was dark, and just ahead was a door. She walked towards it, bringing Alasdair with her. She opened the door and found herself in a deserted alleyway between two buildings.

She managed to get both herself and Alasdair outside before the efforts of the last few moments became too much and she passed out.

The paramedics found them there a short while later. They loaded the two casualties onto an ambulance, and blue lights flashing, rushed them both to hospital.


	14. Chapter 14 A Whole New World

****

Chapter 14 - A Whole New World

The telephone rang, and Giles moved toward it, keen to hear how the others were getting on. He didn't expect to hear a distraught Maria telling him to get to the hospital as soon as possible.

He made it there as quickly as he could, and was advised that Grianne had been asking for him. He was taken to a cubicle, and found the witch with her head swathed in bandages, but otherwise apparently unhurt.

"Grianne, how are you? What happened?"

"I'm ok, just a bit of concussion. I expect they'll let me home soon. The rest is a much longer story."

"What about Alasdair? I heard from Maria that he's here too, but where are Buffy and Spike?"

"There … there was a vampire. It attacked right after the portal closed. Buffy and Spike .."

"Went through," Giles finished. "And Alasdair?"

"I don't know. They won't tell me anything. The vampire knocked me out, then went after him. I came to and saw him feeding on Alasdair. I managed to dust him, then got him out of the building."

"Ok, Grianne, let me go and see if I can find out what's happening. Will you be ok?"

Grianne nodded, smiling tiredly. "I hope he's ok."

It took a while before anyone would tell Giles anything. He had to persuade the officials that he was family before they would talk to him. In the end, Giles lied, telling him that Alasdair was his son-in-law, and that his daughter was currently out of the country. 

"I'm afraid it's not good news. Your son-in-law lost a lot of blood. He's in a coma, and we suspect there will be brain damage. He's having a transfusion, of course, but, his heart stopped shortly after he arrived. We got it started again, but he's on a ventilator, and we don't expect him to be able to breathe unaided. We intend to send him up to ICU, but, it would be a good idea to prepare your daughter for the worst."

Giles was reeling. Alasdair was dying, maybe all but dead. The doctor helped him to a chair, and asked if he could do anything. Giles shook his head, adding, "I need to get back to Grianne. She's going mad not knowing what happened."

"Is she his mother?"

"No," Giles looked distracted. "No, just a family friend."

Grianne took the news more calmly than he expected. In truth, she had suspected the truth, so there was little shock in the news. "What about the others?" she asked, when she was able to speak again.

"I don't know. I haven't come up with anything new since I spoke to Maria. The portal was only going to allow two representatives of this world through. There's also reference to a sacrifice, but I'm still a little woolly on that, it needs some more work.

"So," Grianne said, quietly, "for good or ill, the fate of Emily and the rest of this world rests with two vampires who probably have no idea what's coming."

"That's about right," Giles agreed.

It was cold. That was the first thought that flitted through his mind. He opened his eyes, and panic set in. It wasn't that the landscape was wrong in any way, or that there were was something else that he didn't recognise. In fact, it was recognition that caused the panic. The sun was shining, and there was no shelter for miles in any direction. Amidst the panic, the thought that he wasn't already smouldering managed to get some attention. He pushed the whole thing out of his mind, and turned to look for Buffy.

She was lying a short distance away, apparently asleep. He moved towards her, shaking her gently, worried that she was hurt in some way. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, that smile he saw each morning when she woke. Her eyes were torn from his face when she saw the sunshine. Spike shook his head, "It seems to be ok," he reassured her. He just wondered who was going to reassure him.

He sat down beside her, noticing for the first time the hard rock beneath them. It seemed to be a beautiful winter day, bright and clear. There were mountains in the distance, surrounding them on three sides. On the fourth, there appeared to be an endless plain.

"Another world," Buffy muttered, taking in her surroundings. 

"Yeah," Spike breathed.

"Wonder what happened to the others?"

"Don't know. Maybe they went somewhere else, even just to a different part of this world."

"Where do you suppose Emily is?"

Spike just shook his head. There was no reason to consider one direction any more likely that the rest.

"Which way do we go? Toss a coin, or is there some better way?" Buffy asked.

Spike considered for a moment before answering. "If we're looking for help, or for blood when we run out of what we've brought, I'd suggest not going into the mountains. More likely to find civilisation in the valley."

Without any further clues, they decided to head away from the mountains. They weren't going to actively seek out civilisation, but they had no idea of how big this world was, and the prospect that Emily could be anywhere suggested they needed some help.

A quick check of back packs showed that their blood supply had survived intact. With care, they could make it last a week. They hefted their packs, and started to walk.

It was difficult to judge time as they progressed. The sun seemed to move slowly, not noticeably approaching the horizon from its position high in the sky. They didn't speak a lot as they walked, each lost in his or her own thoughts. They knew they had been walking for several hours, when suddenly, the sun went out. It didn't go down, it didn't fade, it simply went out, as an electric light would.

The two vampires stood still for a while, instinctively reaching for the other, while their vision readjusted to the dark. As if by magic, they became aware of lights in the distance. They started to make their way towards the light, the first sign they had seen that they were not alone in this world.

It took some time, and snow was starting to fall when they got close enough to recognise some sort of dwelling. At least, that's what it seemed to be. It was big, thirty feet tall, but with only one, very large door. There were windows, again big, and they were in a line well above Spike's head.

Creeping closer, they found one window that had a rock underneath. Spike stood on it, and allowed Buffy to climb onto his shoulders so she could peer inside.

She stayed there for some time, certainly longer than Spike thought it would take, before jumping silently to the ground. She motioned for him to follow, and ran from the building, to hide behind some scrubby bushes that grew around it. It was the first vegetation they had found since their arrival, the first life of any kind.

"Well?" Spike whispered impatiently.

"Eh, difficult to describe. It looked human, well, unless you count the green skin, and red eyes. Oh, and the size. He must have been twenty feet tall."

"He?"

"He. You had to see it," she added with a giggle.

"Oh," Spike said. "So, what should we do?"

The question was answered by a voice from behind them.

"I think you should come with me."

They turned to see the creature Buffy had described, or at least one very like it except for one detail. This one was less than six feet tall.

The two vampires took up defensive stances, ready for an attack.

"Now, now, none of that," they were told. "I hope you're not going to be difficult, that would be so tedious. I mean you no harm, but I do have to insist that you come with me.

"Why should we do as you say?" Spike asked, quite reasonably he thought.

"I take it you've come to find your friend?"

He saw the recognition in their eyes, so he continued.

"In that case, I recommend you accompany me. I could insist, but I'd rather not."

With a shrug, they agreed, following the strange creature. They approached the building, and their guide waved a hand in its direction. To their amazement, the building shrank to dimensions more appropriate to their size.

"Did you shrink yourself, too?" Buffy asked.

"Yes, I thought I would facilitate communication. It's not easy to talk to someone when you can't see their face."

They went inside, and were met with a large, single room. The walls were made of a familiar substance, like the corridor from which they had accessed the portal. The room was sparsely furnished, with some chairs gathered at one end, and an area screened off at the other.

They were invited to sit down, and their host joined them a few moments later, two mugs in his hands.

"Blood?" he offered. "I'm afraid it isn't something you'll find in this world. There are no creatures who would make suitable prey for you. This is artificial, but I think you'll find it quite palatable."

With a glance at each other, the two vampires sniffed at the contents of the mugs. 

"As I said," their host reminded them when he noticed their hesitation. "I mean you no harm. You will need nourishment if you are to retrieve your friend. Please, drink, and I will explain."

First Spike, then Buffy took a hesitant sip. It tasted like human blood, with a hint, Spike realised, of Slayer.

"Let me introduce myself," their host began. "I am Jared, and it is my honour to welcome you to this world. I must tell you, that there is much to do, and very little time in which to achieve it, so I cannot permit time wasting. If you fight me, I will have to take steps. The outcome of the next few days is too important to your world for mistakes to be made."

He looked carefully at his two companions, as if trying to weigh their worth. Their link was obvious. These were two who were used to living and working together. They were attuned to one another, constantly monitoring the other for reactions most would miss.

"So, you know who we are, and why we're here. Mind telling us what's going on?" Spike was concealing his impatience with difficulty. It was only because of the unspoken communication with Buffy that he hadn't tried a more direct method of obtaining information. "Like, why you've taken Emily. Whatever else you've got in mind, that girl's got friends, and we're going to get her back. And, while you're here, where are the others? There were four of us coming here. Buffy and I came through, but we haven't seen the other two."

Jared smiled, a wry smile that implied he was humouring them. "I'm not sure which question I should answer first, so I'll just deal with them, and others you haven't yet asked as I see fit. First, the others are still in your world. The portal was designed to admit exactly two creatures from your world. Why you were chosen, I don't know. You are not typical of your world, are you?"

Buffy elbowed Spike in the ribs, silencing the retort she could feel forming on his lips. "No, we're not, at least, not any more. We were human once."

"Of course. Emily was brought here for her own safety. Some of those of your world, people who should have had the greater good at the forefront of their actions, wanted to destroy her. Fortunately, her guardian was able to prevent that. He brought her here. He has watched over her throughout her short life, as he watched over her antecedents in their time. It was because of his action that she survived the accident which killed her mother and siblings."

"Ok, she's safe. Can we take her home now?" Buffy wanted to know.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple any more. The gift of the New is a treasure. It will give the people of your world an unprecedented advantage over the forces of darkness which threaten you. Since it was initially rejected by those of your world, it must now be won back. Emily is safe for now, but it is up to you to earn the right to take her back with you."

"And how are we expected to do that? Some sort a trial?" Spike's impatience was threatening to boil over. His body was tense as a coiled spring, and the tone of his voice made that clear.

"Well, I suppose you could call it that. The place you need to go to is a long way from here. It will take you several days of travel. When you arrive, you will be given further instructions. In the meantime, I will provide you with what you need to make the journey. I must impress upon you, that time is of the essence in this matter. I cannot tell you how long you have, as time itself will form part of the trial. I do not expect you to understand that, so I will not try to explain."

"So, where do we go?" Spike had stood up, and was pacing. Buffy joined him on her feet, but went to him, placing a comforting arm on his.

"It will take some time to obtain what is needed. You will stay here for the remainder of the night, and leave at first light." Jared's voice was soft, consciously trying not to provoke the vampire.

"I thought you said time was important? If it is, we'll go now."

"Without instructions on where you are going, without provisions. I know, you have some blood with you, but you will need more than that. Believe me, if you leave now, you will not achieve your goal."

Spike was getting more irritated by the second, but Buffy turned to face him, putting her arms around his waist. "Spike, look, maybe he's right. We need whatever help we can get in this. We don't know which way to go. And a night's rest would be useful, too. Once we're on our way, we can keep going as long as we're able."

Jared watched as the tension melted from Spike's body as Buffy held him. He had been surprised at the choice made on behalf of their world, but he was starting to understand why these two had been chosen.

"Ok, pet, we'll rest. You're right, it's just, I can't bear to think of Alasdair at home, not knowing about Emily. I don't want to rest until she's home with him."

Jared took his two guests to the area behind the screens, and they found themselves in what could only be described as a bedroom. There was a large bed, covered in cream linen, and another area screened off in the corner which sported a large bath. It was already filled with scented water, steam rising and filling the air around it. Clean clothes were hanging close by, obviously modelled on what they were currently wearing. 

"I have to leave you now. I will return before morning with your supplies and instructions on how to get to your destination. In the meantime, please avail yourself of all my humble home has to offer."

Buffy turned to thank him, but he was gone. The scent of the bath was enticing. There were floral notes, something like freesia, and beneath that, something heavier, earthier, something she couldn't recognise. Without another thought, Buffy started to strip off her clothes and climbed into the tub. Spike watched for only a couple of seconds before making the decision to join her. 

There was plenty of room for two in the tub, even if they didn't want contact. The water was hot, and both felt their bodies warm through as they soaked. The scent seemed to calm them both, chasing their fears away for a time, while it invigorated their bodies. They washed one another, taking their time, reacquainting each other with their bodies. The water didn't cool, staying at the perfect temperature throughout their time in it.

Once out of the bath, they dried one another, still aware of the scent of the water. Once dry, they fell onto the bed where they made love. Everything about that night seemed made to bond them together, make them one even more than was already the case. When they eventually slept, they did so dreamlessly, each wrapped in the other's arms. 


	15. Chapter 15 – A Change in Reality

****

Chapter 15 – A Change in Reality

It was a simple routine once it was established. Giles, Jenny and Grianne shared duties sitting with Alasdair. Of course, they couldn't be with him all the time. Jenny had to go home during the week so that Lizzie could get to school, and Giles was still working on the prophecy, to say nothing of the other freelance research jobs that actually earned money. Grianne did what she could to fill in the gaps, but the coven wanted her back. She was arguing, but she knew they would win in the end.

The time spent with Alasdair meant talking to him. The medical staff had been surprised when they did a brain scan, to find that he was not, in fact, brain-dead. So, he remained, silent and unmoving, surrounded by the technology which kept him alive. The ventilator, breathing for him, and the tubes, feeding him and removing the waste products. 

Worse than this, was the fact that none of them knew what was happening to the other members of their select band. Of Buffy, Spike, and Emily, nothing had been heard for two weeks. Given the urgency implied in Giles' translation of the prophecy, they were starting to give up hope.

*-*-*

The Council of Watchers was in turmoil. The Master had disappeared, and no trace of him had been found. A consultation with staff trained in such matters confirmed that Lucien Spencer was dead. They could provide no further details.

In accordance with the requirements, the secret committee had met so far on three different occasions. Each time, a new Master was agreed. Each time, the chosen candidate refused to take up the post.

Reluctantly, the committee agreed to take nominations from beyond the Spencer family and its offshoots. This caused a serious delay in proceedings, as each nomination had to be vetted by senior family members. They might not want the job themselves, but they wanted to be sure they approved the person who was eventually chosen.

*-*-*

Two creatures, of wildly different appearance, watched over two sleeping vampires. The first was green, and roughly human in appearance, the second was a bird, the most beautiful bird imaginable.

"Is everything ready?" asked the Phoenix. 

"Yes, when they wake, their realities will be different. Their quest will begin." His companion looked sad as he spoke. "Do you think they will succeed?"

"I don't know, I suppose their chance is as good as any. They will have to overcome their natural resistance before both will see the truth. The test is designed to see into their hearts, to understand their worth."

Jared smiled sadly, as he and the Phoenix left the room. Immediately, the surroundings changed, the room becoming smaller and darker. The bed shrank too, leaving Spike alone, as Buffy was instantly transported elsewhere.

*-*-*

Spike woke to rough shaking. Someone was pulling at his arm, demanding that he get up. He opened his eyes blearily and looked around the unfamiliar surroundings. He instinctively reached for who? What? The room was small and dark, with a stone floor. There were no windows that he could see, and the bed was narrow and hard. 

He looked at the person who had wakened him. The man was big - taller and wider than Spike. He had long, unkempt, dark hair, and he was dressed in rather old fashioned looking clothing. A quick glance suggested to Spike that it was made from woven wool, and it looked in serious need of washing.

"You're called to report to the Commander," the man told him. "You'd better be quick, or there'll be trouble."

Spike was temporarily bemused. At first, nothing about his current situation seemed remotely familiar, but as he sat with his legs dangling towards the floor, things became clear.

He was irritated to find that he had slept in his clothes, and that said clothes were of a similar style to his companion. Fortunately, they appeared much cleaner. The man, he now recognised as Frank, was waiting impatiently by the door.

"Give me a minute to wash my face," Spike growled at him.

He walked to a small table on the other side of the room from the bed, and found a bowl of water. He quickly splashed some water at his face, enjoying the feeling of comparative freshness it gave him.

Frank stood and watched the display, tutting under his breath at silly vampires who felt washing was important.

When he had finished, Spike stood up. He had a momentary vision of a cascade of hot water warming and cleaning his entire body. He shook his head to rid himself of the enjoyable image. It was strange. He'd never imagined such a thing before, and couldn't understand why he had thought of it.

He followed Frank down a dingy corridor, surprised when Frank made no attempt to avoid the sunlight flooding in the windows. He knew that Frank was a vampire like himself, and he held back as he approached the first pool of sunlight. He stretched out his arm and found nothing other than a pleasant warmth.

Frank had spotted that Spike was falling behind, and he stopped and waited impatiently. "Come on, the Commander doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Spike followed, marvelling at the feel of sunlight on his hands. He wished he could remove more of his clothing and revel in the sensation, but he knew Frank was right.

They reached a door, and Frank immediately turned to go. "Knock, and you'll be admitted," he mumbled, beating a hasty retreat. Spike smiled to himself. He knew the Commander by reputation, and he believed Frank's behaviour was typical.

He knocked, and responded to the barked, "Come," immediately.

The man sitting at the single desk in the room was also bigger than Spike. He was dark, and brown eyed, his face comely enough except for the cruelty that showed in his eyes.

The man looked up from the paper he was perusing as Spike stood before the desk. He checked out his visitor, and seemed to find something lacking.

"You're not what I expected," he commented. "I thought you'd be … bigger, more impressive."

"In my line of business, big isn't an advantage."

"And, what sort of name is Spike?"

"It's the one I choose to use," Spike replied. "Look, I understand you've got a job for me. If you have, then you'd better give me the details. If you haven't, then I need to go and find someone else who can employ me."

The Commander looked Spike up and down again, then stood. He held out his hand, saying, "Liam Sullivan, Commander of the advance party."

Spike took the proffered hand, shaking it firmly before adding, "Spike, spy and mercenary, at your service, provided it proves profitable."

Sullivan smiled at that comment. It was certainly typical of what he had been led to believe. Despite amusement, he was still uncomfortable. He was a firm believer in the cause, and to be forced to use a mercenary went against the grain. Surely all vampires should be involved in the effort to overthrow the humans in this world without thought of immediate recompense. There would be reward enough when the world was secure, and the humans held captive for the use of a superior species.

He sighed, before picking up the paper in front of him. He had his orders, after all, and if what he had been told was true, the vampire in front of him was the best chance they had of cutting short the whole campaign. This world, after all, was just too big a prize. A world where vampires were unaffected by sunlight, where humans were plentiful? It was just too good to be true.

"Your job, is as follows. We need to transport a woman, a human woman, from here, to the capital city, in less than two weeks. You will have to travel mainly through territory still held by the humans. If you succeed, it should be possible to cut short this campaign. The woman is .. important to the people of this world. There is another like her, and she resides in the capital. When you get there, you will capture the other, and execute them both. They must die together. That is why they are kept apart. If one of them dies, another of their kind is called. If both die together, we believe that their line will die out."

"What's so special about these women?" Spike asked. To call on his services for so simple a task seemed unreasonable.

"They are known as Slayers. Their task in this world is to kill those like us. They possess strength and speed to rival the most experienced of our kind. Fortunately, they are susceptible to a certain chemical. It removes their unnatural strength, and renders them like the rest of their kind. Bear in mind, that their faces are known to humans throughout this world. Most would willingly die to save them."

Spike was conducted down stairs and along corridors until he wondered if he would ever find his way outside. He knew they were approaching their destination by the smell. There was something about dungeons that always smelled the same. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Ahead, Sullivan was opening a door. Spike followed him into a dank, dark cell. The predominant smells were blood, pain and fear, overwhelming even the rank smell of an unwashed human.

As his eyes accustomed themselves to the gloom, he spotted a woman chained to the wall. She was filthy, and her body covered in injuries from many different implements.

"There she is," Sullivan announced. "We've been amusing ourselves while she's been here. She might no longer be strong, but her pain threshold is surprisingly high, and she heals quickly too. We've had to work quite hard to achieve the results you see."

Spike grinned mirthlessly. In truth, the sight in front of him made him feel sick. He was a vampire. He fed from humans. He killed humans, both because he fed, and for other reasons if the price was right, but he had no taste for abuse of this sort.

Covering his true feelings, he turned to the Commander. "Have her unshackled."

Sullivan motioned to a guard who was lounging in the corridor, and the manacles were undone. The girl flopped to the ground, and Spike stepped forwards to pick her up. She moaned slightly as he did so, and Spike could see that she was holding onto consciousness by the barest thread.

"Does she have a name?" he asked.

Sullivan looked surprised at the question. "She's called Buffy Summers, and your other quarry is Emily Stevenson. Not that names are important."

Spike picked up the young woman, and followed Sullivan out of the cell.

"I'll need to get her cleaned up and healed before we can travel," he told the other vampire.

Sullivan looked surprised.

"She's going to look kind of obvious like this, now, isn't she? And she's not much use to me if she can't walk."

Sullivan sighed, and shrugged his shoulders. He had been warned that this man was an eccentric, but he was surprised. He nodded, and led the way to the bath house.

"Of course, it's quiet at the moment. It's not normal to bathe in winter time, so you'll have the place to yourself. Of course, you'll have to find someone to warm the water …"

As they left the main building, Spike realised it was a castle of sorts. He seemed to be surprised at that, but couldn't understand why. He had arrived there late the previous night, and he must have seen it then.

The bath house was within the ramparts of the castle. It was entered down some steep stairs. Inside were cubicles made of rough stone, each with a sunken trough in the floor. Someone was found to be already warming water, apparently on Spike's own orders of the night before. One bath was ready and steaming. "Do you want some help?" the Commander asked, making it clear that he didn't approve.

"No, I think I can manage," Spike said between gritted teeth.

"Fine. The supplies for your journey will be left in your quarters. Included will be sufficient supplies of the chemical to keep her docile. Leave as soon as you're ready. She should be healed enough in a few hours."

With that, Spike was left alone with the woman. He looked at her closely for a few moments, trying to work out why she looked so familiar. He gave up the attempt. He had never noticed humans as individuals before, so he couldn't make sense of the feeling of déjà vu he felt. He laid her down as gently as he could, considering how best to do this. She was barely conscious, and there was a real likelihood of her drowning in the bath if she was alone. The bath was huge, fully four feet square, and filled to a similar depth. There were steps from one corner, leading down into the steaming water.

He decided he could do with a bath himself, and that seemed the simplest way to achieve his aim. He undressed himself first, concerned that the cool air in the bath house would chill the woman. Another glance at her told him he was worrying unnecessarily. Whatever she was wearing when she was captured had long ago disintegrated into a few filthy scraps. He removed them, and lifted her into his arms while he walked down the steps into the water.

She moaned as the water hit her skin, raw and cut as it was, but she didn't cry out in pain. He found a place on the steps where he could sit and keep her head above the water, and started to clean her. There were soft cloths and some sort of soap provided, and he soaped and washed her body, and then did the same for her hair. Again something about this felt hauntingly familiar. He seemed to know her body instinctively, and he felt his body respond to her. She seemed to be revived by his actions, and by the time he had finished, she was able to stand in the water unaided. He allowed her to move away from him, keeping a wary eye on her as he washed himself.

"Don't try anything," he warned, as he saw her eyeing the exit. "You'd never get out of the castle, and even if you did, dressed like that, you wouldn't last a day. There's snow on the ground out there, and it's not going anywhere any time soon."

He saw the spark of hope in her eyes extinguish as he pointed out her predicament. He was surprised that he felt guilty. Since when had Spike felt anything for humans? They were food, nothing more. Yet, this small woman was doing something to him that he couldn't understand.

When he had washed to his satisfaction, he got out of the water, and dried himself, leaving her to soak a while longer. When he was dry, he pulled on his trousers, but glancing at the remains of her clothes, he didn't put on his shirt or jacket. He beckoned her out of the water, and to his surprise, she came willingly enough.

"The water's going cold," she explained, and he smiled. She wasn't giving in, just waiting for a better opportunity. He'd have his work cut out with this one, he was sure of that.

He helped her to dry herself, then gave her his shirt and jacket. She had started to shiver violently as soon as she emerged from the water, and wrapped herself in the garments gratefully. When they were ready, he led her to his quarters.

The promised supplies had already arrived, and Spike locked the door behind them, and went to look through them. Buffy moved behind him, and he spotted the movement. He looked to find her eyeing his bed longingly. Remembering how she had been chained up, he gestured towards it.

"Help yourself, Love. We'll be leaving in a couple of hours, but you might as well rest until then."

She fell on the bed, pulling the meagre blankets around her, and to Spike's surprise, she was soon asleep.


	16. Chapter 16 A Journey Begins

Chapter 16 - A Journey Begins  
  
Buffy was dreaming. Her dreams were happy, almost-memories of a time past, a time she could no longer remember. She was wakened with a sharp stabbing pain in her arm.  
  
Her eyes flew open, and her first reaction was to struggle against the arm holding her. To her surprise, the light pressure which had restrained her was quickly gone, and she was looking up at a pair of intense blue eyes. The recent events soon came back, and she wondered why he had stepped away. Since her capture two weeks earlier, no one had shown her the merest kindness. She had been beaten and raped more often that she could remember clearly, and had almost become resigned to more of the same.  
  
The way she had been treated since this stranger had taken charge of her was different. Not that she expected it to be a permanent situation. She was sure he was just waiting until he was ready before he continued with her torment.  
  
He seemed to recognise something in her eyes, not fear, she was always careful not to let any of that show, but resignation perhaps. He stepped away, giving her room while she swung her legs around on the bed so that she could sit.  
  
"Sleep well?" he asked, his voice implying he actually cared. Buffy didn't answer. She watched him as he put the syringe he was holding away, and then picked up some clothes from the other side of the small room. He held them up for her to see.  
  
"What do you think?" he asked. "Think it'll fit? There's not actually much choice, so I had to take what I could get."  
  
The clothes consisted of a pair of brown leather trousers which looked close to her size. She made a mental grimace as she realised they would probably be too big. She had hardly eaten in two weeks, and she knew she had lost weight. There was a shirt of rough, creamy coloured cotton, and a waistcoat of leather which more or less matched the trousers. In his other hand, there was a coat which had seen better days, but had obviously been made to last. It was sheepskin, and although not too clean looking, it was intact, and the wool inside still reasonably fluffy.  
  
"Why?" she asked. She knew the plan was for this man - she didn't even know his name - had he told her? - to take her to her death. "Look, love," he replied. "We're going to be travelling together for a while, so we might as well get along. My name's Spike, and I've got a job to do. Doesn't mean I have to make things uncomfortable for you in the meantime. You're going to need clothes anyway, and you might as well be warm."  
  
She nodded. She could feel the lethargy that followed the injections coming over her. She knew there was nothing she could do while under its effect. Spike had already surprised her several times since she had woken, but his next action was the most amazing yet. He turned his back. He turned his back to let her dress in some modicum of privacy. Convinced he would change his mind, she quickly pulled on the clothes, glad to find a belt which allowed her to pull the waist of the trousers tight enough that they wouldn't slip too low.  
  
When she had finished, he turned around again, picking up the clothes she had shed. He pushed them into a bag, and gestured her to sit on the bed. "Ok, this is how we're going to do this. While we're in vampire held territory, you will be my pet. I'm not planning on taking advantage of that situation, 'cos, to be honest, I've never seen the point in having a human pet. I mean, if you don't care about your pet, then what's the point? And if you do, you're just setting yourself up for problems. Either way, .." He shook himself, as if trying to push away unwelcome memories.  
  
"When we move into human-held territory, we'll avoid people as much as we can. There's a spell I can use, which'll alter your appearance enough that no one will recognise you. And, I've got a charm which will make me appear human. I'll breathe, and have a beating heart."  
  
Buffy was genuinely surprised at that. Suddenly, her mission which had been simply to escape, now required that she find this charm. The last thing the humans of this world needed was something that allowed vampires to move among them freely. "What is it?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't understand her motive.  
  
He laughed then, genuinely amused. "Not going to tell you, love. Got to hand it to you though. Despite everything they've done to you, you've still got it. Spunk. I'm going to have to keep an eye on you, that's for sure."  
  
He picked up a leather collar and moved towards her. He bent to put it around her neck, and she flinched away from his touch. "None of that, love," he warned. "I said I don't want to hurt you, and that's the truth. But, if you're going to be my pet, you've got to play the part. Can't have any old vamp along the way thinking you're available, or you'll never make it to where we're going."  
  
The collar snapped shut with an audible click. Spike then pulled a long leather lead from his pocket and attached it to the collar. Buffy couldn't help it, on top of all the other degradations she had suffered lately, to be given this most obvious sign of being owned, was just the last straw. She pulled against the restraint, holding the leash in her hands, trying to find a weakness. She realised that tears had started to flow, and she brushed them away roughly.  
  
"Don't," he said, more sharply than he had intended. "It's only for a while. Once we've crossed the line, we have to get rid of it. Then, you'll be my wife, I think. I considered being your brother, but that would mean I'd have to let you out of my sight in some situations, so it's going to have to be wife. It'll be interesting, never thought of myself as the marrying kind."  
  
Tears were still falling down Buffy's cheeks, despite her desperate attempts to stem the flow. She was the Slayer. She was held in esteem by all the people of her world. It was a proud tradition. Slayers lived short lives, but they did so at the pinnacle of society. Now, she was reduced to this . to being a toy to this vampire. Despite his assurance that the relationship was for public consumption only, she didn't really believe it. Sooner or later he'd take advantage of her currently weakened state, of that she was certain.  
  
Spike didn't know what to do. He knew what he should do. He should treat her as if she were truly his pet, in which case some sort of punishment was in order. The alternative was to simply ignore her, and get ready to leave. He found himself watching her, unsure of how to play this. Something he didn't understand was pushing him towards her, willing him to comfort her. He found the impulse something he couldn't ignore, so he edged closer, putting out his hand, and awkwardly patting her shoulder. She flinched at his first touch, then seemed to realise the gesture was not threatening, and relaxed.  
  
Several minutes later, the tears had stopped. With an effort of will, Buffy stood up, straightening her shoulders to stand as tall as she could. Spike looked at her, realised her feet were bare, and got up to retrieve some soft leather boots. He handed them to her wordlessly, and she slipped them on. They were a bit big, but she knew that to venture out into the snow without them would be disastrous.  
  
Spike handed Buffy a bag with a warning. "That one contains your rations," he warned, "so, might be a good idea to keep it safe." He then handed her a piece of bread and a flagon of water. "Thought you might be hungry," he mumbled. "There's not much call for human food around here, so I couldn't do much better. I've got some money, so if you behave, you can buy something later.  
  
Realising how hungry she actually was, Buffy demolished the bread and water quickly, the feeling of a full stomach welcome after days of eating very little. When she finished, she noticed that Spike was watching her, and he gestured to her to pick up her pack. He, in turn, lifted his own, much larger pack onto his back, and led Buffy out of the room and into the castle courtyard.  
  
Apart from those who had the job of guarding the castle, there was no one in sight. They moved towards the gateway, but they were not stopped. It didn't even look as if anyone noticed their passage.  
  
Once outside the confines of the castle, the vampire led the human towards the road. Under normal circumstances, it had been a well-travelled road, leading as it did from the coast to the capital. Buffy had grown up around the coast, and knew the road well. Now, it was all but deserted. The ground behind them was controlled by the invaders, with the area around the capital controlled by the humans.  
  
Spike intended to take the road for a few miles, then pick up a trail which led west. This would allow them to remain in vampire held territory for as long as possible, and would give them the chance to spend the night at an outpost of the invaders just inside their territory. From there, everything would be harder, but he wasn't particularly worried. He had spent many years doing exactly this sort of work. It was why he had been trusted with this task. His track record spoke for itself.  
  
Buffy was doing her best to keep up, but two weeks of pain and little food had left her lacking in strength and energy - and that was without considering the drugs which had been in her system since her capture.  
  
Within two hours, Spike realised the leash was often being pulled tight as Buffy struggled to keep up. His first impulse was to be angry, but, one look at her face changed his mind. Her expression was determined, but annoyed, obviously at herself. He couldn't help but feel sympathy for her, despite his own basic belief that she was no more than a source of food.  
  
Considering food, he had packed some blood, enough for several days, but he wanted to keep it available for the time spent in human territory. He could feed without making it too obvious, but it was always risky, and his current mission was risky enough. Once at the outpost, there would be food available, and he would feed then.  
  
Spotting a stream a short way from the road, he decided to call a halt. Buffy was grateful for the rest, but still doubted his intentions. He pulled something from the pack he carried. It proved to be a piece of cloth that seemed to be treated with a wax-like substance. He laid it on the ground, and gestured for her to sit on it. She did so, watching him as he pulled another coat from his pack. He put it around her shoulders, muttering something about him not needing it yet, then proceeded to sit beside her.  
  
Buffy shrank away from him, still convinced he was just waiting to continue her torment. Instead he smiled at her, a slightly bewildered smile, as if he didn't understand his own motives.  
  
"Rest for a while," he said softly. "We've got a long way to go. If I'd known what they wanted, I'd have asked them to treat you better. It's all very well, but it's not possible to be inconspicuous if I've got to carry you. So, we'll take it easy today, give you the rest you need. Once we're across the line, that'll stop. I don't want that part of the journey to take longer than necessary. So, enjoy it while you can."  
  
With that, he lay back, the leash still coiled around his fist. He seemed to be asleep. Buffy was glad of the second coat. While they were walking, she was warm enough with just her own clothes. Now they were still, she could feel the chill creeping into her. Although the waxed cloth kept the dampness from getting through, the ground was cold, and the chill was reaching through her clothing. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly, but there was a thin covering of snow everywhere. She knew that the land closer to the capital was lower, and less likely to have snow on the ground.  
  
She sat for several minutes, hoping her companion was asleep, before she started to edge away from him. She saw the leash slip from around his hand and felt excitement growing within her. She continued to pull away, gently, slowly, until only the last inches of the leash were around his hand. She pulled away a little further, ready to make a break for it, when one of his eyes opened. He regarded her with amusement, before making it obvious that she had had no chance of escape. The leash was attached to another, transparent strap, which disappeared into the vampire's clothes.  
  
She expected him to raise his voice, to hit her, anything but what he did. He simply smiled, and said, "Now you know you can't get away, why don't you rest for a while? We'll be off in a few minutes, and I want to put a few more miles under our belts before we rest again. I've got a destination in mind for tonight, and I'd really rather get there. The alternative is the tent in this pack, and that will be rather cramped, to say nothing of cold. Of course, the cold doesn't bother me, and the proximity to your body actually sounds rather enjoyable, but, I think you might be happier with the alternative."  
  
With that, his eye closed again, and Buffy decided to do as he suggested.  
  
They saw no one on the next leg of their journey. The road seemed deserted, and the animals in the fields surrounding them had apparently been abandoned when their owners had left as the invasion overtook them. At least, the lucky ones had left. There was a strong smell of rotting corpses when they got close to some of the habitations.  
  
As mid-afternoon approached, Spike suggested heading off the road towards an abandoned farm. He suspected there would be food available there, and knew the fare he had managed to provide for Buffy wouldn't help her recovery very much.  
  
True to his suspicions, they found some farmhouse cheese, and some special, thin, bread of the type used locally when travelling. It was hard, but it kept fresh for several weeks, and Buffy helped herself to all she found.  
  
Fortunately, there were no bodies in the buildings they visited, in fact, they chose their destinations based on Spike's assessment of the smell. He avoided the farmhouse itself, knowing that the sights inside would do nothing to keep his captive quiescent.  
  
Laden with an extra sack full of the food they had obtained, they returned to the road. Buffy had eaten some of the food as they rested in what had probably been the dairy. She felt much stronger than before, and knew the combination of Slayer healing and the psychological advantages of being free from renewed pain and some fresh food were doing wonders for her. She was starting to feel good, almost back to normal, except that she knew that she had only standard human strength and speed. If only she could find a way of avoiding her next injection, her chances of escape would be substantially increased.  
  
The rest of the day passed as it had started. There was minimal conversation between the captor and the captive. Despite this, both kept a watch on the other.  
  
Buffy's previous experience with vampires had been, until the invasion of her world, limited to those indigenous to her home. They had been vicious, delighting in not only killing, but in pain and fear. She had been glad to dispatch each of them, recognising it as not only her sacred duty, but a real service to her fellow humans. Her time as a captive at the castle, had merely reinforced her opinions. Every senior vampire for miles around had been allowed to spend time with her, feeding from her, using her for their pleasure. She had wished for death many times, and had fully expected that she would die in that cell.  
  
This vampire was so different. She was convinced he was simply smarter than the others. He was keeping her guessing, trying to build her confidence so that he could shatter it later. Despite that, she found herself wondering what sort of a man he had been. Good looking, certainly. Intelligent too. There was also an air about him which bespoke being on the other side of bad treatment at some time in the past. She couldn't help but wonder how she would have reacted to him had he been human, and she didn't like the answer her body was giving.  
  
As the Slayer, she had had the choice of partners since she was called. It was expected that Slayers would live hard during their short lives, and most had a number of partners, or at least a succession of them. Buffy had preferred a one-at-a-time approach, but had bored of them quickly. She knew she wanted, and needed someone closer to her own level of strength. She had always been disappointed.  
  
Of course, vampires would be a match for her in strength, but they were also evil, and she could never consider such a thing. Despite herself, she found herself wondering about this strange vampire. Were he human, she would have had no qualms at all about taking his as a partner.  
  
She shook her head to be rid of such notions. It was just the combination of an attractive body and the comparative kindness he had shown her which was causing her to feel that way.  
  
Spike was in a similar quandary. He was a vampire. The usual mantra for such creatures was 'want - take - have', and to some extent he believed in such a simple dogma. His own past, with a Sire who had been sadistic even by the standards of vampires had left him unwilling to inflict unnecessary pain on anyone, even a human. Since the demise of his Sire, he had lived as he could, eventually ending up with his reputation for being able to blend with humans and walk among them undetected. Part of his success in that respect was his ability to put on hold the baser instincts to which vampires were prey. He had to feed, of course, but he rarely killed when he did so. When he fed, that was all he did, he felt no need to torment his victim first.  
  
This woman was having a strange effect on him. He wanted her, and was surprised by that fact. He had never been interested in a human before. One part of him told him to just take what he wanted, but another told him that to take her by force would be a pale shadow of having her as a willing partner, and he found himself unwilling to settle for second best. Not that it was ever likely that she would accept him willingly. After all, his aim in this matter was to kill her, and he didn't believe that was likely to endear him to her. Unsure what else to do, he simply decided to ignore the feelings she was engendering in him, and concentrate on the job at hand. 


	17. Chapter 17 The Defence of the World

****

Chapter 17 - The Defence of the World

Not for the first time, Emily Stevenson wondered what she was doing here. She sat at the long table, surrounded by the senior people from the army, government ministers, and of course, the Prince of Tor. The capital city of this world sat on top of a prominence which led itself to being a natural fortress. In addition, the world had been, for many centuries, a place of peace. The comparatively small, and largely rural, community had lived more or less harmoniously. There were little spats, of course there were. And there was crime, but both were kept under control by the police force. The only other threat to the people in living memory had been from the vampires who moved among them, but they were never numerous, and for them, there were the Slayers. As a result, the army had always been rather a ceremonial organisation, spending time primarily on the pomp and circumstance that the people so enjoyed. 

Then came the invasion. Thousands of vampires had arrived through a portal, killing or capturing many and scattering more of the people of the world. There was no organised resistance at first, although many people had done what they could to defend their own homes and families. They didn't succeed.

Despite this, the more experienced of the two Slayers, Buffy Summers, had gone into battle against the invaders, surrounded by a good portion of the armed forces of the world. The army was decimated, and Buffy was taken prisoner. That news of this reached the city of Tor was almost amazing in itself, and it was generally considered to be an intentional move on the part of the invaders. They wanted to completely demoralise the population. They didn't want them dead, simply pacified and kept as food.

The meeting that morning was the latest in a long succession of such meetings, as those with power in the land gathered to decide what had to be done. It wasn't Emily's idea of how to achieve anything, but she had been given no choice. Since the enemy already had Buffy in their clutches, she had to be kept safe at all costs. If the two Slayers were killed at the same time, no Slayer would rise to replace those who had been lost. Such an occurrence would certainly demoralise the population to a greater extent than any other happening.

Emily was built to fight. It was what she was intended to do, and all this sitting around in the castle was making her extremely edgy. Day after day she heard the latest information on the approach of the vampire army. The past week had, however, been different. For seven whole days, there had been no movement of any type. They held the positions they had taken, and they were waiting. There was no information on what they could possibly be waiting for.

She knew she was squirming in her seat. She couldn't help it. She was bored, and she desperately felt the need to kill something. She hadn't met a single vampire within Tor for over two weeks. They had been cleaned out within days of her incarceration there. She felt her inactivity like an itch throughout her body. She couldn't even relieve her discomfort with some exercise of a different kind, as her boyfriend was not allowed to accompany her into the city. She missed him so much, but she understood the logic. She could afford no distractions, and she had to be able to judge every person she came across dispassionately in case they had been changed and sent to destroy her. 

She looked up from her hands to find all eyes on her. They were obviously waiting for an answer, but she hadn't heard the question. She decided to brazen it out.

"Could you repeat that? I'm not sure I understood it fully."

She was met with a variety of expressions from those close to her at the table. From the Prime Minister, John Miller, she saw haughty disdain. From the Commander in Chief of the Royal Armed Forces, she saw total incredulity. From the man next to her, her Watcher, Michael Barrat, she saw irritation. Only one of the faces had a remotely positive expression. From the Prince of Tor, David, a man bred for the position he held, she saw tolerant affection. In truth, his position had always been purely ceremonial. Despite that, the people loved him, and would follow his lead in anything. For that alone, he was invaluable to those who wielded real power in the land.

The chief of the armed forces, Bertram Willis answered.

"We asked for your opinion on the plan under discussion. Perhaps you would be so kind as to point out exactly where we lost you?"

Despite her lack of interest in the endless discussions, Emily was bright. And, the discussions varied little from one day to the next. She pulled her eyes to the diagram drawn on the map of the ground surrounding the city. She could see the city marked with a thick black line, implying that it was believed to be impenetrable. She didn't actually believe that, but to say so was considered tantamount to treason. 

Below the map was a diagram of a machine, a catapult of sorts, and the picture included an illustration of it throwing burning brands over the ramparts into the crowds of ravening vampires below.

"Well," she began slowly. "Of course it will work as far as it goes. It will cut down the numbers of the attackers, but it will only protect those of us who are inside the fortress. And how many is that? How many of us can actually fit into the city? And how long can we last in a siege anyway? The more people we have in the city, the shorter the time. And it's not just food we're going to need. We'll need huge supplies of wood to use against them if we go with this plan, and that's got to come from outside the city too. Remember too that we've already got thousands camping in the fields surrounding us. Food will soon be scarce around here without any intervention from the invaders."

She paused. She knew her next comment was going to go down badly. "And remember, that it will only take one vampire in the city to ruin everything. All they would have to do is lie low, turning a few, then letting them loose to do the same, and we could be overrun from within despite everything we try to do."

Willis sneered at her. "And what is your alternative?" His tone made it clear he didn't expect an answer.

"The only solution is to take the fight to them. They don't want us dead, they want us alive but domesticated. We have to line up everyone we can. We have to show them how to kill these things. We have to shoot them with fiery brands, sure we do, but we've got to do it at a place that'll give us the advantages. There're other things we can do too. Water blessed by the holy men causes their skin to burn. We can throw quantities of that at them too. We can make sure everyone knows how to use a stake, and is armed with them, although their use should be a last resort."

"And do you remember the last time we attempted such a thing? Your sister Slayer was taken by the enemy. We cannot risk your being taken also." Miller was obviously irritated.

"The last time this was attempted, the numbers used were too few. This isn't something that can be achieved only by those in the army. Every able-bodied person must be used. It's only if we can outnumber them that we stand a chance. And if it doesn't work, then it doesn't matter whether they have me, kill me, or not. Because any of you who are left had better just bare your necks and get used to being about as important to the new regime as the stock we keep for food. Because this won't be our world any more."

She stared at each face around the table as she spoke, willing them to deny the truth of what she was saying. To the surprise of everyone at the table, Prince David stood up.

"I think the Slayer is right. She makes sense, and I for one wish to be trained to be a part of this people's army she wants to set up."

His words were met with incredulity around the table. Then, one by one, the faceless men who outnumbered the others at the table started to nod, muttering their agreement. The wave of positive feeling flowed up the table, eventually reaching Miller, Willis and Barrat. Realising they were hopelessly outnumbered, they had no option other than to nod their heads and seem to agree. Silent communication between them made it clear that they would meet later to find a way to ensure that this plan never made it out of the castle. It was, quite simply, preposterous.

*-*-*

It was another conference table in another world. The faces around it were wary, afraid. Since the meeting about the 'New', and the disappearance of Lucien Spencer, everyone who had attended that meeting, with one or two curious exceptions, had disappeared or died in mysterious circumstances. Their heirs eyed each other as they waited for someone, anyone, to take control of the meeting. At last, one man did. He was the lawful heir of one of the families, but a very distant relation. If fact, he hadn't even realised until the recent events that he had a relationship to the family in question. 

Rupert Giles spoke clearly, irritated by the wave of fear which undulated around the assembled company.

"The purpose of this meeting is to attempt to find someone to accept nomination to the post of Master of the Council of Watchers. I propose that we dispose of any other business. The only matter of importance is the appointment of new Master. Only once that is done can anything else be achieved. Do we have any nominations?"

Several people raised their hands, nominating another member of the assembled company, only to have the nominee decline. At last, an aggressive young man spoke up. 

"What about you? You've taken over the meeting, and I've never seen you before. Which family do you represent?"

Giles' voice was cold. "My credentials were checked before I was admitted to this meeting, as were yours." He paused, waiting for some acknowledgement from this questioner. When he saw the almost imperceptible nod, he continued. "Now, did you wish to nominate someone?"

The answer was brief, and to the point. "Yes, I'd like to nominate you."

The intention of the nomination was clearly to put Giles in his place, so, when the answer came, the voice quiet, there was substantial surprise. 

"I accept."

The atmosphere in the room was instantly changed. The charged tension disappeared, and smiles of relief appeared on many faces. Another of those around the table, a tweed-clad older man, a younger son who had never expected to be raised to head of his family quickly spoke up. "I second that nomination. Can I suggest an immediate vote?" 

There was murmured agreement from around the table. The man in the conservative tweed jacket continued. "Those in favour of," he paused, looking towards Giles, unsure of his name. Giles took pity on his situation and supplied the necessary information.

"Those in favour of Rupert Giles taking on the mantle of Master of the Council of Watchers, indicate your agreement by raising your hand."

One by one, all hands around the table were raised, and the vote was concluded with the words. "I therefore announce that Rupert Giles has been elected to the position of Master of the Council of Watchers by the unanimous decision of the Council Management Committee. I therefore pass the chairmanship of the meeting over to him."

Giles cast his eyes around the table before speaking. "I decree this meeting closed. You will understand that I need some time to consider my new duties and responsibilities, and I will not be reconvening this body in the meantime, if ever. I thank you for your time."

With that, he stood up, pushing his chair away from the table. He continued to stand there, clearly waiting for the others to leave. There were a dozen murmured conversations, some clearly expressing the relief felt by the participants, others, indignation at the way they had been dismissed. In twos and threes, they moved towards the lift, and disappeared into it until Giles was left alone.

He approached the Master's desk, and pressed the button on the intercom to the Master's secretary. She was new to the job, her predecessor one of those who had disappeared, and as far as anyone knew, unrelated to the ruling families. She had worked for the Council for a number of years, and was more than competent. Her name was Janet Frazer.

"See to it that I'm disturbed by no one other than my wife until further notice," he said, before switching off the device.

He wondered if anyone else had felt it. At the instant he had been declared Master of the Council of Watchers, he had felt a tingle in his skin, the unmistakable feeling of magic in the air, as if an electric charge had dissipated in the air around him. He knew he had been keyed for something, and he was keen to find out exactly what. He opened the top left hand drawer of the desk, and noticed a polished metal box, just bigger than A4 in area, and maybe five inches deep. It had no apparent seam or join, no visible lock or hinge. Yet, when he placed his right hand on the top of the box, it sprang open. 

On top of the other contents was a typed sheet. He began to read it with initial amazement, and then growing excitement.

__

Congratulations Mr. Giles on your appointment. It is many years since we have taken an active role in the appointment of the Master of the Council, but these are difficult times, and your appointment was necessary. 

You should know that we were charged with the protection of the New, and that we had thought everything to be under control until the attempt on her life by your predecessor. She is safe for now, but her fate rests in the hands of the two warriors who have followed her into another world.

Your job for now, will be to reform the Council of Watchers. Whether or not the warriors are successful, the Council will be needed, and it must rekindle its purpose and be once more true to its aims.

Below this sheet are various tools which you will find invaluable. There is a remote which will allow you access to the whole building, and to all the information kept for the Master's eyes only. The device will work for no one else, unless we deem it necessary. I have taken the liberty of having certain debris removed from the lowest level of the building, but it is otherwise as it was left by your predecessor.

I can be contacted via the private line on your desk, but only by you. I am known as the Phoenix. I will aid you when I can, you have only to ask.

Under the note was an instrument which he recognised from Grianne's description as the one used to operate the lift from the sub basement. That device had disappeared from her possession at some time between her arriving at ground level and the arrival of the ambulance. Giles had been back to check the location since then, but there had been no sign of it at all. It looked remarkably like a remote control, and beside it were a number of other items at whose purpose he could only guess. He ignored them for the moment, noticing a set of keys which were designated 'Keys to the Master's home'. He knew that the Master had a flat somewhere in the building, but he had never been privy to its location. There was no further information on the fob, so he pocketed the keys, lifted the remote, and started to investigate the purpose of its various buttons. 

It wasn't long before he had used the remote to open a cache of documents which he instinctively knew would make for interesting reading, a safe whose contents looked remarkably intriguing, andworked out how to access the sub basement. There was one other interesting discovery. On one wall was a bank of bookcases, and when a certain key on the control pad was operated, they moved to reveal a doorway. He walked through to find himself in a sumptuously appointed flat. A quick perusal showed four bedrooms, a lounge, dining room, kitchen, utility room, study and a couple of bathrooms. It had another entrance, one he assumed would not necessitate coming through the office, most likely opened by the keys in his pocket.

He left the flat, choosing to investigate the sub basement, and found it much as Grianne had described. The body was gone, the only thing remaining to show for its existence was the bloodstain which adorned the floor and wall close to the lift door. He could see no evidence of the alternative exit that Grianne had described, and assumed it was hidden. 

Satisfied that he had achieved all he could, Giles headed home to share the news with Jenny, and to call Grianne. For himself, he was relieved to have something real to do. He had carried on with assorted research since Alasdair's injury, but he had no heart for anything unrelated to the current predicament. His income as Master of the Council would more than meet his and his family's needs, while allowing him to work towards the aim closest to his heart.

He also hoped this new turn of events would be sufficient to persuade Grianne that she needed to remain in London. He knew she was close to agreeing to the demands of the coven that she return as soon as possible. More than anything, he wanted guidance from the witch. She was not so much older than he was, but the wisdom she showed in most circumstances sometimes made him feel like a callow schoolboy. He smiled at his own picture of himself, knowing how Buffy would feel about such a drawing. Compared to Buffy, he always felt like an impossibly old man, and now that she was immortal, that would never change. 

Despite the long time he had lived without contact with her, he missed her desperately now. He was even surprised at the extent to which Spike had become part of the extended family to which he belonged. The events in Sunnydale of a year ago had moulded them into a unit to which he was proud to belong.

As he headed out of the building, it occurred to him, that, as Master, he had it in his power to make Grianne an offer she would find it very difficult to refuse. A deputy Master was, to his mind, a necessity, and he could think of no one better suited to the task.

He drove home feeling better than he had for some time. He had a purpose again, a purpose that mattered. If he couldn't contribute directly to the safety of Emily, Buffy and Spike, at least he could work in an effort parallel to the efforts of the two warriors. He just wished he could know how they were doing.

*-*-*

Grianne was spending the evening at the hospital. It simply wasn't possible to have someone there all the time, but between them, Alasdair had company at some time each day.

She was reading to Alasdair, a book she had read many times, which he had once said he wanted to read. It had been her project for a week now, reading him a single chapter each day in an effort to bring him out of the coma in which he languished. She knew that the doctor in charge of his case was working towards telling them that there was no hope for his recovery. Grianne didn't believe that. He looked much as he did in health. His skin was normally pale, that particular pale peculiar to the ginger-haired, so, although his freckles had faded, he looked unchanged. He looked unreasonably large as he lay in the bed. His over six-foot frame looked even taller in the bed which looked as if it was designed for a much smaller person. He had lost weight, but even that was not excessive yet. At least, his face still looked much the same. His arms were definitely thinner than she remembered.

She reached the end of the chapter and put the book down. She knew instinctively that hers was not the voice which would sink to whatever level it was that his consciousness resided. Only Emily's voice would be able to reach him, and she was lost.

She had never been a violent woman, but the memory of the remains of Lucien Spencer was still vivid in her mind, and she couldn't help but wish that she had been the one to inflict the injuries on the man responsible for Emily's disappearance.


	18. Chapter 18 Almost Déjà Vu

__

I'm raising the rating of this story a bit. Ideally, I'd like to rate it at PG15, but ff.net doesn't have that rating, so I'm going to put it up to R. I'm hoping that won't cause any problems. After all, the first part of this saga was rated R. There's nothing too graphic, I prefer to leave the details to your imagination, but there's some not too fluffy action in the forthcoming chapter, and I'd like to be safe. 

****

Chapter 18 - Almost Déjà Vu 

It was almost dark when they reached their destination for the night. Unlike the castle which was the current headquarters for the advance party, this was a small affair, three or four underground rooms which had previously been used as some sort of storage area for a local manor house. If you didn't know it was there, it was unlikely you would spot it. There were only a few vampires posted there, and they had been chosen for speed rather than any other attribute. Their task was simply to alert the main contingent of troops of any attempt to attack.

Such an attack was not considered likely. The humans of this world had fled the advancing vampires quickly after the battle which resulted in Buffy being taken. They were now relying on the defences around the capital city, and that was where the army, what was left of it, was based. The only reason the invaders had not already launched their attack on the city was to allow Spike time to achieve his task.

They were only a few hundred yards from the outpost when they were spotted. They were challenged, but Spike was able to identify himself to the satisfaction of those on guard, and they were led inside. The room they entered was small and smoky. A fire burned brightly at the centre of the room, and several vampires lounged around it. They all eyed Buffy appreciatively as Spike brought her in, and she noticed he was careful to display the leash. She saw a flash of disappointment from one or two of the vampires, but after a short discussion between Spike and one of the others, she was led through the room into a short corridor. From there, they entered another small room. It wasn't as clean as the accommodations at the castle had been, but it was dry, and although cold, it was a lot warmer than outside. There was a single bed which was piled with covers, and two chairs. 

Spike sat in one of the two chairs gratefully, pulling Buffy towards the second. He was smiling at some private joke, and looked at his companion.

"What?" she asked.

"You didn't hear, did you?"

"Hear what?"

"The offer. The senior man up there offered me a great deal of money to borrow you for the night."

Buffy bristled at the idea of being bought, but it only brought back to her the truth of her situation.

"And I suppose you don't like to share?" she asked.

A flash of something passed across his face, but Buffy wasn't sure whether it was hurt or irritation.

"Actually, I don't like to share, but that has nothing to do with it. People like him would use you like at the castle, and I don't want you injured again. Now, if it's ok with you, I'm going to lock you in here while I go and get something to eat."

"You mean while you go and kill someone," Buffy answered from between her teeth.

Spike looked up in surprise. "Actually, there's rarely a need to kill to feed, it's only the fact that some humans fight the inevitable that makes killing more likely."

"That's not my experience," she huffed.

"Not on this world, maybe. Here, you've kept vampires down to the point where they get hungry, where they can't feed at need, and you're surprised they take advantage of things when they get the chance. Once this world is subdued, and the people realise how things are, most people will be fed from regularly, but still live otherwise normal lives."

"And you think we should just stand there and take it, do you?"

"If there's nothing else you can do, then why not?"

"So, why don't you feed from me instead?"

The words stopped him short. She was actually willing to have him feed from her in order to save someone else. He sighed heavily. "Two reasons. The first is purely practical. I need to take enough that you won't be feeling well enough to travel in the morning. And secondly, let me ask you, when those others fed on you back at the castle, do you remember what happened right after?"

It took a second for the penny to drop, but Buffy realised what he was getting at. When he saw that she understood, he nodded, adding, "Slayer blood's a powerful aphrodisiac. Now, I'm not averse to having some, but I don't think you'd like the result, and believe it or not, I want to get you to the capital without hurting you more than I have to."

"So you can kill me," Buffy reminded him.

"Well, yes, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Of course you can do something about it," she pointed out. "Just take me across the line tomorrow, and let me go."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"I don't know, but if you don't want to hurt me, then, that would be a way out."

"I don't want to hurt you unnecessarily, but that's not the same thing. I'll do what I've got to do, because this world is just too good to let it go. There'll be a period of readjustment, then the humans of this world will come to realise that it's not the end of everything to have vampires in charge. It's just the natural order of things. Sure there're vampires who kill and hurt because they can, but most don't. Most are willing to simply feed and leave you alone the rest of the time. It's not so bad once you understand how things work."

Buffy shook her head. It sounded so simple the way he described it, people were no more than cattle to him anyway, so, to him, it was simple.

"Go on, then," she challenged him, gesturing towards the door. He stood, disengaging her leash from the connection on his body, and looped it through the bed frame. When he left, Buffy reached into her own food supply for some bread and cheese. The cheese was good, but a steady diet of just that was beginning to pall already. She was starting to crave some fresh fruit, and hoped she'd be able to get some soon. As she chewed, she turned her mind to coming up with a way to turn the tables on her captor. Surely it shouldn't be too difficult to get away once they were among humans again. She just had to work out how to do it.

It was probably because she was deep in thought that she didn't hear the scrabbling at the door. Spike had made a point of locking the door as he left, and she didn't hear the sound of the door being unlocked. When the door flew open, she recognised the vampire who stood in the doorway from the guard room. He was much bigger than Spike, and he had a nasty grin on his face which made Buffy cringe.

He stepped into the room and closed and locked the door behind him.

"I'm afraid your master's going to be delayed, so I'm going to have to take care of you in the meantime," he growled, approaching Buffy menacingly. 

"I've always heard how wonderful Slayer blood is, but I never thought I'd get the chance to sample some. And, it's not really fair of Spike to keep you to himself. I offered him a lot of money for a taste, but he turned me down. So, now he doesn't get paid, but I still get to try you out."

His face started to change, distorting to the demon mask. It occurred to Buffy that she had still to see Spike's demon mask, and then she wondered why such a thing would occur to her at that moment. 

It only took two paces before he had crossed the room to her, and his huge arms reached out to her, pulling her to the ideal angle to allow him to feed. Buffy struggled, but there was nothing she could do. Even with Slayer strength, a vampire of this build would be difficult to overpower.

As he sank his fangs into her neck, she realised she was in more trouble than she had even realised. When the others had drunk from her at the castle, they were always careful to make sure someone else was there to pull them off before they killed her. There was something about her blood that caused the vampires to forget about the need to keep her alive.

He started to drink, champing with his fangs, so that the wounds in her neck were larger and more torn than they needed to be. Within seconds he started to moan, and she knew the aphrodisiac nature of her blood was having its usual effect. Without withdrawing his fangs at all, he started to pull at her clothing, gradually removing it, the fact that her trousers were leather the only thing that kept them largely intact. Her shirt didn't fare so well, as the buttons were sent skittering over the floor. She knew what was going to happen, and she was steeling herself to endure again, when the door flew open.

She couldn't see what was happening, her vision obscured by the vampire who was attacking her. The next thing she knew was that her attacker was wrenched from her, the wounds in her neck tearing as it happened. Instinctively, she lifted one of the blankets off the bed, and used it to apply pressure to the wound, hoping that Slayer healing would kick in soon enough to stop her bleeding to death.

Her enraged attacker's trousers were around his ankles, effectively hobbling him, and he snarled at the person responsible for pulling him away from her. Spike stood in front of him, his posture defensive, his face showing the demon mask Buffy hadn't seen before.

The larger vampire kicked off his trousers and pounced, but Spike side-stepped the attack easily, countering with a resounding kick to the other's back. He roared in pain and rage, pulled himself up, and lunged again. Spike avoided the attack, and managed to get in a resounding hit of his own. This sequence of events repeated several times, the larger vampire getting more and more angry, and, as a result, more and more careless with every hit he took. At last, Spike had him in a neck lock, and he effortlessly pulled back his head, breaking his neck. He allowed the by then dead weight of the paralysed vampire to fall to the floor before he picked up one of the chairs, and broke off one of the wooden legs. It was the work of seconds to plunge the improvised stake into the other vampire's heart, and watch him disappear in a cloud of dust.

Only then did Spike turn his attention to Buffy. One glance showed him she was still alive, and with it enough to have attempted to stop her neck bleeding. He closed the door behind him, and locked it before heading back to his pack. He pulled out what appeared to be a first aid kit. Pulling away the blanket she was still holding to her neck, he started to clean the wound with a soft cloth soaked in some fluid from the kit.

Buffy tried to stop him, determined to do it for herself, but he just batted her hands out of the way. 

"Let me do it properly. You can't see what you're doing anyway. Last thing I want is you getting sick on me."

He said the words impatiently and rather gruffly, but there was a hint of something else in his voice that Buffy was having problems understanding. Had he been human, she would have said he cared. But he was a vampire, so she knew better than that.

She allowed him to clean and dress her wound, tutting at the mess as he worked. She found it amusing the way he commented on the rips in her neck, almost like one craftsman commenting disparagingly on the work of another. When he had finished, he allowed her to lie flat on the bed, which she did gratefully. The blood loss had left her feeling a bit woozy, and she was rather tired of seeing the room spinning.

It was only once she had regained her equilibrium that she realised that he was injured too. His clothes were torn, and his face and arms were covered in gashes. When he tried to stand again, it became apparent that his leg was injured too, a huge gash down the back of his calf which was bleeding heavily.

Wincing, he cut his trousers open to above the knee, and pulled some further supplies from his pack. Buffy sat up on the bed, and pushed his hands away as he tried to clean the wound himself.

"Let me," she said.

"Why?"

"You bandaged me up, seems only fair I get to do the same thing."

He nodded warily, and it was obvious that he was ready to act at the first sign of an escape attempt.

"Remember we're still in vampire territory," he warned.

Buffy nodded. She knew he was right. If she was going to escape, now wasn't the time.

He lay out on the bed, face down, and she sat at the foot of it where she could see clearly to work. She cleaned the wound, and he winced as she did so. Then, she began to bandage his leg as gently as she could.

"You've done this before," he commented.

"Of course, although normally only for myself. You too?"

"Yeah, well, it pays to be able to do a bit of first aid in my line of work."

When he was bandaged, he heaved a sigh of relief, stood up and flopped on one of the chairs.

"So, what happened?" Buffy asked.

"Was half way through feeding, when I got jumped. Seems the big guy didn't want to take no for an answer, and he got the rest of them to delay me on a promise of them having a share of you later. It took me a while, but I managed to get rid of them. Came back here, and you know the rest."

"I take it the others put up more of a fight than he did."

"Well, yeah. Slayer's blood. Told you it was an aphrodisiac. Caused him to think with exactly one part of his body, and let's say, it wasn't his best part."

She giggled at that, then wondered why. Relief, she told herself. She was a long way from being safe, but at least the current threat was over.

"Any more of them left?" she asked.

"No, all gone. But, don't get any ideas. I can still stop you if I have to."

Buffy wasn't sure whether or not that was true, but found herself reluctant to find out.

Wordlessly, Spike returned his first aid supplies to his pack, and it was obvious he was preparing to sleep. Despite binding Spike's wound, Buffy was still feeling the recent blood loss, and she flopped back onto the bed. Spike retrieved the leash and reattached it to his body. He picked up the blanket Buffy had used to staunch her blood flow and threw it into a corner of the room. He then took the rest of the blankets and pulled them up around her.

He seemed to be about to settle down for the night, when he got up from the one remaining chair, and opened the door. He threw out the blood-soaked blanket, re-locked the door, and went back to the chair.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"What? The blanket?"

"Yeah."

"Can't stand the smell."

He felt her bristling.

"Well, not so much can't stand it. It's making me hungry. And, even the smell's having an effect on me. Making it difficult to sleep."

"Oh."

Buffy's response was to turn to face the wall. She was surprised that she had been allowed to sleep on the bed. It was true that the chair was between her and the door, but she suspected Spike wasn't beyond a bit of furniture removal. And, neither of them was so big that it would have been impossible for them to share the bed. 

She stopped that train of thought quickly. After everything that had happened to her recently, after what nearly happened to her minutes ago, that thought should fill her with fear, with dread. But it didn't. Now, if only she could understand why, she might feel a lot more comfortable with herself.


	19. Chapter 19 Getting to Know You

****

Chapter 19 - Getting to Know You

As he had hoped, Giles' news had forestalled Grianne's return to Ireland. She was now installed in an office next to his own, and had a flat next door. They had both spent hours poring over the files to which they had no access before. The one thing that Giles was clear on was that the Council of Watchers was a mess. Fortunately, he was able to recruit people - people he trusted and had known since University days, to help sort out the mess which constituted the financial affairs of the Council. That left him free to investigate the other, more important matters.

His relationship with the Phoenix hadn't given him as much information as he had hoped. In some respects, it felt like talking to a computer. He suspected he would get the information he needed, if only he could ask the right question.

At the first opportunity, he planned to move Jenny and the children to London. There was a local school Lizzie could attend, and it would mean spending more time with them that commuting would allow. And, Jenny was keen to help in more practical ways. Her background meant that she was much more adept in computer use than he was, and she had a great deal of arcane knowledge too. Not that these skills were in short supply among the Council staff - it was just that he was still being cautious as to whom to trust.

*-*-*

Another day, another needle in her arm. Buffy's first thoughts as she woke were remarkably resigned. She opened her eyes quickly, but Spike was already withdrawing the needle from her arm, and glancing at her with an … apologetic? look before moving back to his chair.

She immediately noticed he was limping a little, and one glance at the bandage showed it was bloody. She was surprised. She had understood that vampire healing rivalled her own Slayer ability.

"You've been bleeding," she commented.

"Yeah, I think the knife that cut me had some Vargas demon spittle on it. You won't find any of those on this world, by the way, just in case you're getting any ideas. Thing is, that stuff's lethal to humans, and awkward for vampires. It slows or even stops the blood's ability to clot, so my leg's going to bleed for a while before it stops. Not fatal, though, for me anyway, and you'd better believe I can still run faster than you can."

She nodded. She knew the only reason he could run faster than she could, was the injection she'd just had. And, Buffy realised, it seemed that the stuff had a side effect. Since she had been having the injections, she'd also been sleeping very deeply, so Spike had a distinct advantage when it came to getting a needle in her arm each morning. 

"Grab some food, I'll see if I can find some water for you. I'll be back soon," he announced before lacing her leash through the bed frame and limping out of the door. He locked it behind him. Buffy took the opportunity to check out her own injury. No mirror, of course, so she had to do it by hand. To her relief, the wound was closing, and, although painful to the touch, it was quite bearable when she'd re-bandaged it.

Spike came back a little later, with two filled water-skins. He handed one to Buffy, and she drank thirstily - one disadvantage of blood loss. She knew she was going to need a lot more to drink in the next few days if she was going to get back to normal, or what passed for normal for a drugged Slayer.

Spike rooted about in his pack and brought out another skin like the one she was drinking from, and raised it to his lips. She noticed it was blood, from the redness on his lips when he paused for a moment, and immediately regretted drinking the water. She realised she didn't know what else had been in that bag. Spike spotted her look of revulsion, but looked puzzled.

"I thought you'd be glad not to see me taking it from source, Slayer. Why the long face?"

"Well, first, it's still human blood, isn't it?"

He nodded, but carried on drinking.

"Well, someone had to provide it, didn't they? And, well, " Buffy stumbled over the other thought. Although it was important to her, it seemed insignificant compared to someone's life.

He was looking at her, an amused expression on his face while he waited for her to continue. "Well, I thought, maybe this bag had blood in it before." Her voice tailed off as she completed the sentence. She had also dipped her head as she spoke, but now she raised her eyes to see Spike's reaction. He was smiling, enjoying her discomfort.

"Don't worry, pet. I keep some bags just for water. Don't tend to re-use them once they've had blood in them. You know, I like blood. I know you don't approve, but to me, blood's well, just imagine your favourite food. The thing you crave more than anything else. Blood, fresh from the source is like that. There's nothing else like it. Cold blood from a bag is ok, but it's not as good. Stale blood, blood that's getting old, well, that's like eating mouldy food. And, that's what would happen if I re-used bags for blood. So, I don't."

Buffy returned to eating some cheese, washing it down with some more of the water. She was embarrassed by her reaction, but even more than that, she was amazed that she'd just had a conversation like that with a vampire. She ran her mind over the past few days, and realised it wasn't the first time she'd had a rational conversation with him. Her previous experience of conversations with vampires tended to be big on threats, but not a lot else. And, she couldn't understand him either. She tried to imagine herself having a conversation with a food source. A cow, or a sheep. That thought made her smile. Of course, cows and sheep have a bit of a language difficulty, so maybe it's not quite the same.

She remembered a book. She didn't know when she'd read it, especially since she had never been much of a one for reading. Maybe someone had told her about it. She decided that seemed more likely. Anyway, it was a story about all sorts of improbable things, and one of them was the idea that a cow had been bred able to talk, and to be perfectly content to be killed for food. In view of what Spike had told her about his wishes for her world, it didn't seem so preposterous as it had. That thought brought her back to reality, and she glanced up to see Spike re-packing his bag. He looked to be just about finished. 

He watched her for a few moments as she finished her meal, then removed the collar from around her neck. The action required him to be close to her, his hands seeming to take a long time to undo the clasp that held it closed. Buffy decided that if she didn't know better, she'd think that Spike was nervous, his fingers not quite doing what he wanted them to do.

At last, it was undone, and he packed the leash in his bag. "As of today, you're my wife. If I need to, I'll drug you, and you'll by my sick wife. That was the original plan, but I'm really not that sure of how the sedative will react with the other drug I'm giving you. I'd rather not take the risk of you dying because of the drugs, so I've decided to try this. Don't give me a reason to take consider the alternative."

His words were firm, but the expression on his face showed something else. That was almost pleading with her. She could almost believe he actually cared what happened to her. 

The next thing surprised her. He looked closely at her face, then muttered some words in a language she didn't understand. When he'd finished, he examined her face closely, then spoke. 

"Problem with that spell, is it's difficult to know whether it's worked or not. Point of it is to stop people recognising you. Doesn't actually change the way you look, just sort of encourages people not to take too much notice. Still, it's never let me down before."

The next thing he did, was to leave her alone again, locking her in for a few moments, and when he returned, he was breathing. As her hand brushed against his when both stooped to pick up their packs, she realised he was warm. Whatever the charm was, it worked. He would certainly seem human to anyone they met.

They left a little while later, Spike using a wooden branch he found as a crutch. "It'll be more realistic if I'm supposed to be human," he told her, implying that he didn't actually need it. Buffy wasn't so sure. She had been watching him closely, and she was sure she had seen him wince a few times as he put weight on that leg, but, by the time they had travelled for half an hour, he seemed to be doing better.

They walked through the morning, and, had circumstances been different, Buffy could honestly have said she enjoyed it. Spike hadn't picked such a punishing pace as he had the day before, although whether that was to allow for his leg, or her own blood loss, she wasn't sure. The weather was sunny, and less cold than it had been. It had rained overnight, and the thin layer of snow, which had covered the ground the day before, had gone. The path was still hard, as if it was almost, but not quite, on the point of thawing.

By mid day, they came across the first signs of habitation. The land up until then had been much as it had the day before. The farms and villages they passed were deserted, although this side of the line, there was no obvious sign of predation.

Although these farms were still inhabited, anyone who saw them was wary, watching them, ready to take action if they came too close. That suited Spike well though, as the last thing he wanted was to give Buffy the chance to mix with others.

They walked on, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking about the things around them. Spike seemed genuinely interested in the world his kind wanted to claim. He asked about its history, and its customs. He commented about the weather, and wanted to know the names of various plants they saw.

Buffy was happy to answer, surprising herself as to how much she actually knew. She'd never been too interested in school, and, once she was called, she had been removed from school to live with her Watcher and his family. From then on, her only subjects of study had been demonology and fighting skills. Not that she'd ever impressed her Watcher with her enthusiasm for her studies. 

They'd been silent for a while, and she'd been thinking about her past. Spike's question surprised her.

"So, what's the life of a Slayer like on this world?"

It was more personal than anything else he'd asked, but she didn't see any harm in answering.

"Good," she replied. "Slayers are pretty much famous. Everyone knows them, and you get to live in a big house, and you've got plenty of cash. People want to know you, be your friend, whatever. Sometimes, though, you don't know whether they just want the Slayer for a friend, or if they really want you."

"Poor little rich girl," Spike teased. Buffy turned to face him, ready to point out that he'd asked, but the expression on his face held no malice.

"I suppose," she answered. "Thing is, Slayers don't live long. I'm about the oldest there's been, and I'm not going to get a lot older if you have your way. So, the way the people see it, they get to do all their living in a short time. Pretty much whatever we want, as long as it doesn't interfere with Slaying, it's ours. And, we're not expected to conform to … other standards."

Spike's face showed his amusement. "Other standards?" 

Buffy looked at him, and blushed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd blushed, but she was doing it anyway. It was quite obvious that Spike knew what she meant, judging by the expression on his face, but he was playing stupid.

"You know what I mean. On this world, nice girls don't get … involved with men until they're married. Slayers don't marry, but the rules don't apply."

"So, do you have someone?" There was something about his voice that almost frightened Buffy. 

"No, not now. I've never found someone I liked enough to keep around."

Spike looked as though he was about to ask another question, but he stopped himself. Buffy took the opportunity to turn the tables on him.

"So, how old are you anyway?"

He seemed surprised at the question. "Don't really keep track of it. I've been a vampire for, what, over a century? Don't really understand the mortal preoccupation with age."

"But, you were mortal, once."

"Yeah." His voice was a whisper. There was something in the voice. Was it regret? Or relief?

"So, what happened? How did you get turned?"

"Not important." The words came out more brusquely than he had intended, and Buffy's face showed her surprise.

There was a strained silence after that, which was eventually broken by Spike.

"It's hard, remembering things about being alive. Some things, it's not regret, not really, but there're some things you're never going to do. Things you take for granted while you're alive. But the advantages, well, apart from the whole immortality thing, there's the freedom. A bit like you Slayers. The rules just don't apply any more. Do what you want, when you want, well, as long as you don't irritate someone more powerful than you. It's hard to explain how it feels. I mean, unless you experience the feeling - you're so alive, even though, technically, you're dead."

"Was it hard, killing at first? Or did it come easily?"

Her voice only indicated curiosity, but Spike suspected an ulterior motive.

"Violence comes naturally. Never saw the point of killing, I mean, it's a one way trip, isn't it?"

"How many people have you killed?"

"Don't know. Never thought to add it up. Like I said, it's not often you have to, but, I defend myself. I've killed to defend others, sometimes. I've killed when it's necessary."

"And killing me is necessary?"

"I'm afraid it is, Pet. At the end of the day, I've got to look after my own kind. Just like you do when you kill mine. I didn't choose the way it is, I just live with it. Like you do."

Buffy was quiet for a while. She'd never thought of it in those terms. She had killed so many vampires in her life, she couldn't put a number to it either. They would have killed people if she hadn't, so she felt justified, but, if he had killed for the same reasons, was he really evil? Everything she had been taught, everything she had experienced, told her that vampires were evil. They didn't deserve anything other than a dusty end. 

"But, you killed your own kind. Last night, you killed other vampires."

"Yeah, they were stupid. They'd been told to leave you alone, they knew you were important, even if they didn't know all the details. And then there was the whole 'self-defence' thing."

"And you saved my life."

That seemed to make him rather embarrassed. His reaction was to pick up the speed of their walk, forcing Buffy to hurry along in his wake. He was pleased to note that his leg was feeling much better. He couldn't see the bandage at all, but it didn't seem to have been bleeding for a while.

As night approached, they were nearing a village. Spike was in a quandary. In some ways, sleeping under the stars was the simplest option. He instinctively preferred the idea of avoiding contact for as long as possible. On the other hand, the long day had affected Buffy more than she admitted. The blood loss had left her lacking in energy, and it seemed to make her more vulnerable to the cold. 

"How do you feel about spending the night in a warm bed?" he asked.

Buffy was surprised at the question. "As opposed to what? Sleeping on the ground? Because, got to say, not a difficult decision."

"That's what I thought. We're close to a village. Suppose we circle around it, and come in from the other direction. That way, the locals'll be more likely to trust us."

"Sure," Buffy answered. She was surprised at the suggestion, and she was so tired, she was sure she would have slept anywhere, but the prospect of warmth was undeniably welcome. 

On arriving in the village, Spike enquired if there was an inn of any type in the area. The reply was that there wasn't, but that someone at the other end of the village had a spare room she had been know to let out to travellers. Spike led Buffy to the house indicated and knocked on the door.

It took only a few moments and a little haggling to procure the room along with the promise of a hot meal and breakfast in the morning. Unfortunately, it would be necessary to eat with the family, increasing the contact with humans, but it couldn't be helped. 

They were led up a narrow, dark, staircase to a room with windows to the back of the house. It was clean, but somewhat lacking in other than the barest amenities. There was a double bed, a chair, and a table with a basin for washing. Their hostess bustled away to get some water so they could 'refresh themselves before eating', leaving them alone.

As soon as the woman had gone, Buffy flopped on the bed. She couldn't remember ever feeling this exhausted. The combination of losing her Slayer strength and the blood loss had left her weaker than ever. Spike watched in concern as she lay there, her eyes closed, his enhanced hearing all too aware of the way her heart was racing, and her breathing laboured. When their hostess returned with the water, she asked about preferences for food that night. As chance would have it, one of the options was liver casserole, and Spike immediately indicated his preference for that. Buffy started to object, but he over-ruled her.

"You could do with the iron, Pet. You know that."

"But, I don't like liver," she objected.

"Oh, I've heard that before," their hostess interjected. "But everyone loves my liver casserole. You wait and see."

As soon as they were alone again, Buffy tried to argue again. She was sick of a steady diet of cheese, and she was hungry. Spike wouldn't listen, just smiled as she tried to argue.

"I bet you always argued about eating your veg when you were little, too."

"I …" she replied, about to refute the suggestion.

"I guess I did," she admitted sheepishly. She was fast getting the impression that Spike knew far too much about her.

Dinner passed without incident. To her surprise, Spike ate with the rest of them, apparently enjoying the meal. Buffy found the casserole surprisingly palatable, but, she told herself, it was just because she was so hungry. To her delight, there were fresh garden vegetables to accompany the casserole, and a selection of fruit for afterwards. Conversation during the meal centred around the threat from the invaders. The people of the village were terrified, and felt very vulnerable that close to the line. The news from the capital wasn't too good either, and that was why they had remained. Apparently food was short there, and people were actively discouraged from leaving their homes. When the meal was over, the two travellers retired to their room, with wishes for a peaceful night.

Exhausted as she was, Buffy was keen to get out of the clothes she was wearing before she slept. Her shirt was only decent because it was too big. The incident of the previous night had left it without buttons, and she had worn it tucked into her trousers, the overlap large enough to keep it closed. 

"Do you have anything I could sleep in?" she asked Spike. She had no other clothes in her pack, but she knew Spike had several changes.

"Might have," he answered before opening his pack. He rummaged around for a few moments before passing her the shirt she had worn after her bath.

"Thanks," she murmured, feeling embarrassed.

To her relief, he turned his back again, giving her the chance to change in private. When she indicated she was ready, she had already climbed into the bed. She was sitting, with the covers up to her waist.

"You going to turn your face too?" he asked.

"If you want," she replied, pulling the covers up over her head.

When she looked again, he was wearing just a pair of baggy trousers she hadn't seen before. "Don't normally wear anything to sleep in," he commented, "but, I suppose I've got to compromise."

Sitting on the bed, he started to roll one of the legs of his trousers up to have a look at his injury. 

"Lie on the bed, and I'll look at it," Buffy huffed at him.

With a shrug, Spike complied.

When she removed the bandage, Buffy was able to see for herself that the bleeding had stopped. The injury didn't look as if it was healing, though. And, the skin around the wound was a funny greenish colour.

"Is it supposed to be green?" she asked. "It's just, I was taught to slay vampires, not how to give first aid."

"Green? Let me see," Spike snapped. He managed to contort himself enough to get a look.

"Looks like there was more than just Vargas spittle on that knife. Some sort of poison, I suspect, but I don't know what. Still, it's not hurting too much, and it didn't slow me up today, so I guess it's not too serious."

He got up from the bed, and pulled out some fresh bandages. Buffy did what she could, noticing that despite his comments, Spike seemed to tense every time she touched him. Of course, that didn't just apply to when she touched the leg. Touching his shoulder had the exact same effect.

Spike sat on the bed, bending and straightening his leg at the knee. It was obvious that it was less comfortable when the knee was bent, and he turned to look at Buffy. He was wanted to explain what he wanted without spooking her, but he wasn't sure how to do it. She had been watching, and spoke for him.

"You want to know if you can sleep in the bed too," she stated.

"Well, yeah, it'll be more comfortable. I'll stay to my side, won't try anything, I promise."

"Couldn't stop you if you did," Buffy reminded him bitterly. "You've been straight with me so far, so I believe you. Which side do you want? Beside the wall, or the outside?"

That got a smile. "I'll take the outside, Pet, if you don't mind. And, just in case you get any ideas, I'm a very light sleeper. And, if you did manage to escape, I'd be very put out, and I might have to take out my irritation on the family here. Now, I know you don't want that, so you'll be good, won't you?"

Buffy honestly couldn't decide how real the threat was. Any other vampire would not have been doubted. But, any other vampire wouldn't have asked her permission to share the bed, and wouldn't have promised to keep his distance. "Ok," she replied.

They settled down to sleep, and Buffy remembered nothing more.


	20. Chapter 20 Opportunity

****

Chapter 20 - Opportunity

When Spike woke, it was still dark. There was no point in getting up, as their hosts would not be expecting them for breakfast for a couple of hours, and he had promised Buffy breakfast.

The thought was no sooner gone, than he was wondering just what sort of spell he was under. Since when had he worried about keeping a promise to a human? Since when had he bothered to speak to a human at all? Buffy was having an effect on him that he didn't understand. He lay and watched her for a while. He had been true to his word, he had stayed on his side of the bed all night. The Slayer, on the other hand, seemed determined to push him off altogether. No sooner had she been asleep, than she was snuggled against him. Pleasant though the feeling was, Spike had felt duty bound to move away from her touch, but, each time he had done so, she had followed. Now, he was perched on the edge of the bed, and Buffy's head was cradled on his arm. Her leg was thrown over his, and, in order to maintain his balance in such a precarious position, he had put his other arm around her.

Who was he kidding? Maintaining his balance was a good excuse, but the truth was, he was enjoying the closeness.

Vampires weren't supposed to need closeness. Sex, yes, but not closeness. But he missed it so much. His current lifestyle didn't leave much room for any sort of a relationship, and his memories flitted back to his early life, when he had loved, and his love had been taken from him. He'd steeled himself to feel nothing after that, avoiding anything that might have landed him in a position where he might start to care again. His current mission had seemed safe. Transporting a single human to her death? Not much opportunity for falling in love …

That thought brought him up short. He wasn't falling in love. He couldn't fall in love with a human, even if she's beautiful. No, she isn't beautiful. How could she be? She's human. She's a food source.

Annoyed at himself, Spike removed himself from her warm body and got up. Unsure what to do, he decided to make sure her injection had kicked in by the time they had to go down for breakfast, so he found what he needed, and pushed the needle into her arm.

Unlike the previous occasions, she didn't seem to notice. In fact, by the way her eyes were twitching, he knew she was dreaming, and by the expression on her face, it wasn't an unpleasant dream. In fact, from the sounds she was making, she seemed to be enjoying the dream a good deal. If there was one thing he had always envied women for, it was the fact that they could have that sort of dream without waking up in a wet bed.

The knowledge of what she was doing was having an effect on him, though, and he didn't think he'd be able to just get into bed and ignore it, so, as quietly as he could, he left the room and made his way downstairs to the privy shared by the family.

The pain in his leg was worse than he remembered from the day before. Although he could walk, he knew he had a problem which didn't look to be going away, but without knowing the nature of the poison, he had no idea of how to treat it. 

He sighed as he entered the small dank room. One distinct advantage of being a vampire was the lack of need to use such places. Although it was basically clean, the smell assailed his enhanced senses. Still, tonight, it would be useful. He concentrated on his memory of Buffy, her pleasure suffused face, her quiet moaning as he did what he had to do. When release came, there was a distinct lack of satisfaction with it, but, that was the norm for him. He shrugged, cleaned himself up and headed back upstairs.

Buffy was still sleeping, but had moved towards the centre of the bed when he got back. She was quiet again, her eyes still, the dream apparently complete. Relieved, he got back into bed with her, and she quickly burrowed her head into him, giving a little sigh of satisfaction when she was comfortable.

The first tendrils of panic were fluttering in his head. He had a job to do, one which was important to his kind. So, why was he wishing this journey could never end? Why was he dreading the moment when he was successful, when he had both Slayers in his grasp, and was able to kill them?

The answer came to his mind unbidden. "Because you're a bloody pillock."

He heard the comment, one his human self had made more than once. As a human, he had made a habit of only falling for the unattainable. Come to think of it, he had done much the same as a vampire, which explained his reluctance to fall for anyone for a long time.

When she woke, Buffy knew it was already daylight. She was embarrassed to notice that she was practically lying on top of Spike, who was perched on the verge of falling off the bed. The space behind her was cold and coverless, but the body of her captor was warm and comfortable.

As gently as she could, she moved back, shuddering at the cold as she did so, pulling the blankets with her. She prayed the whole time that he wouldn't waken until she had regained her position.

She turned her back on him, lying on her arm as she did so, and she felt a slight pain. Quickly looking, she realised she had had another injection, the small bead of blood which resulted from the injection already hardened into a tiny scab. She wondered first how she had slept through the injection. She hadn't before. What had been different this time? Then, she wondered, just where she had been when Spike had wakened. She hoped she hadn't been cuddled up to him as she had just found herself, but, judging by the coldness of the sheets on her side of the bed, they hadn't been used for quite a while. On the other hand, surely Spike would have done something if she had been like that? He would have moved her, wakened her roughly, or taken advantage of her. She instantly dismissed the last possibility. She didn't understand her reasoning, but she just knew Spike wouldn't, and she almost wished that wasn't the case.

No, she corrected herself. She just wished he found her as attractive as she did him. She couldn't deny the attraction any more. She was vaguely aware of the dream she'd had in the night. The details were gone, as dream details do when you waken, but, the impression remained. She felt a glow about herself, the feeling of being loved and cherished, and she just wished it was real. Spike was an unusual vampire, but she knew it could never be real. If ever they were together in that way, it wouldn't be gentle and love-filled. It would be violent and she would have no say in the matter, just like it had been at the castle. She shivered at the memory, so different from the impression left by her dream. She was on her way to die, and she had never been loved. Not really loved, not like she dreamed about. She knew physical pleasure, she knew friendship, she knew the love of her parents, but she had never experienced the feeling of being someone's everything, of knowing her feelings for a man were reciprocated and, unless she did something soon, she never would. But then, as a Slayer, it was never going to happen anyway.

She was surprised when her breathing hitched, and she realised a tear was running from her eye to the pillow below. She mentally shook herself, and was surprised when the thought was accompanied by a physical equivalent. The movement caused Spike to turn over and open his eyes. The expression on his face for one unguarded second as he moved towards consciousness took her breath away. The expression was so familiar, she knew it was the one she had imagined in her dream. As soon as she had spotted it, it was gone, replaced with the friendly but distant expression to which she was accustomed.

"Morning, Pet. Sleep well?" If he had spotted the tears, he gave no sign.

She nodded, unwilling to trust her voice at first.

"Time to get up," he added. "Just time for a quick wash and dress before breakfast."

With those words, he swung his legs out of the bed and made his way stiffly over to the basin. He poured half the water in, and made quick work of washing as much as he could without making himself indecent. Not that he would be embarrassed under normal circumstances, but, these were not normal circumstances, and it would be difficult to hide his feelings about her if he tried. So, he settled for a minimal wash, then returned to the bed to examine his leg.

Buffy washed quickly, then turned to help with his leg, careful to make sure the shirt didn't ride too far up her legs as she arranged herself on the bed.

"It looks worse," she commented.

"It'll be fine," he countered. "Just needs time. Didn't slow me up yesterday, and it won't today."

"If you say so," Buffy replied, unconvinced. She realised this was her chance, but, remembering his threat of the night before, she had to wait until they were clear of other humans before she tried anything.

Buffy cleaned and bandaged his leg as well as she could, and then they both went to opposite ends of the room to change. 

By the time they were finished, the smell of cooking had risen to the bedroom, and Buffy was embarrassed to note that her stomach was making her feelings on the subject of food known to anyone in the vicinity.

Breakfast passed without incident, and when it was over, Buffy and Spike returned to their room to pick up their belongings. Before long, they were back on the road, both quiet, both busy with their own thoughts.

The morning passed without much conversation, and if either of them thought it strange after the previous day, neither mentioned the fact.

Buffy's thoughts were full of plans to get away. She knew she had to have a weapon of some kind, but she quickly discarded the possibility of an improvised stake. She was the Slayer, but the prospect of staking this particular vampire gave her a strange feeling, causing her stomach to contract painfully. She decided to just find something hard enough to hit him over the head, and knock him out. That would hopefully give her enough of a head start to get away.

Spike's thoughts were remarkably similar, considering their different circumstances. He was desperately trying to steel himself for what he knew he had to do - kill Buffy. The thought made him feel physically sick, an unusual feeling for a vampire. He found himself considering what would happen if he just didn't do it. That prospect didn't seem much better. Those who had entrusted him with the job, would hunt him down. In short, if he failed, the only thing he could do would be to stake himself, because when they caught up with him, they would make him suffer for a very long time.

As the walk continued, Spike found it harder and harder to think rationally. He seemed to be an uninterested observer of his own progress, the details of the countryside through which they travelled passing unnoticed. He managed to keep putting one leg in front of the other, the effort becoming more and more mechanical as he progressed.

Close to noon, he heard, as if from a distance, a suggestion from Buffy that they stop and eat. To Buffy's surprise, Spike simply flopped to the ground, pulling his pack off his back, and sitting against a tree. With a shrug, she set about pulling out the waxed sheet they used for sitting on, and found some food and water.

When she was at last settled, she allowed herself to look at him properly for the first time in a while. She had been avoiding looking at him all morning, desperate to steel herself for what she knew she had to do. She turned her eyes to watch him for a moment, and was shocked at what she saw. His face was even paler than before, and a fine sheen of sweat beaded his skin. All thoughts of finding a suitable rock were forgotten, as she scooted closer to him.

"Spike, what's wrong? You don't look well." 

She lifted her hand to his brow and was surprised at the heat coming from him. It wasn't a normal, healthy, human heat, but a fevered heat. His breathing was becoming laboured, and he didn't seem to hear the question. 

"Spike," she tried again, louder this time. He turned his head to her, shaking it gently.

"Don't know," he whispered. "T .. turn your back, for a moment, please."

The words got softer as he spoke. She was going to argue, but she found she couldn't. She did as he asked, and when she turned back, his breathing had stopped, but a hand on his brow showed his temperature seemed, if anything, to have increased. 

"Better not to have to breathe," he managed, before pulling himself over to the ground sheet and flopping onto it. She followed him down, loosening the clothing around his neck, while wondering if that would even make a difference for a vampire.

"It's your leg, isn't it?" she asked, stroking his cheek.

If he was surprised by her action, he didn't show it, but just nodded.

"Guess the poison's worse than I thought. Been getting more painful as we walked, and I've been feeling kinda like it's not my body any more. Once we sat, it's like I don't feel I could get up again."

Ignoring his attempts to bat away her hands, Buffy undid and removed his trousers, grateful to find that he did wear some sort of underwear. The wound on his leg was very different from that morning. It seemed completely unreasonable that it could have deteriorated so much in such a short time. The whole calf was swollen and discoloured, and the discoloration had spread to part of the way up his thigh. He winced noticeably when she touched any part of it.

"Buffy, get gone. Just leave me, or, stake me if you like. Just realised what sort of poison it was. Joke really, but, it's all your fault. Know you didn't do it on purpose, but it's your fault it got worse. Cure's … complicated, and I'm not in any position to put it together. Go, leave me…"

Buffy looked shocked for a few moments before she moved. Stake him? No, she couldn't do it. She looked at a rock she'd considered using to render him unconscious, and smiled mirthlessly. She didn't need it any more.

She stood, and opened his pack. She found a skin of blood, and gave it to him. "Will it help?" she asked.

"A bit," he admitted. "But, it'll still get worse. What're you waiting for you stupid bint? Go!"

Stopping only to cover him in a blanket from his pack, Buffy picked up her own pack, hefted it and walked away. She couldn't help but stop and look back at the form on the ground. He was shaking noticeably now, and everything in her strained towards going back and helping him. Slayer instinct told her to leave, find help for herself, and find a way to get back into the war to defend her home. She had what she wanted. She was free again. So, why was she crying?


	21. Chapter 21 Decision

****

Chapter 21 - Decision

Her footsteps were leaden, and her mind racing. How could it have been her fault? She hadn't done anything to him, so how could she have made his injury worse? Was it something she'd done as she treated it? She couldn't work out what, and everything she'd used on it had come from his own pack. It didn't make sense. 

A vision of his face swam before her eyes as she walked. The details changed constantly, flitting between the last expression she had seen, pain and fever wracked, telling her to go, and the one she had seen for a moment this morning. The one that looked so loving and vulnerable. 

She felt she was being torn, ripped between her duty as the Slayer and her own instinct, and the internal battle raged as she walked, argument after argument vying for her attention. She no longer listened to the words in her head, just concentrated on the face. It seemed simpler that way.

*-*-*

The past few days had been a flurry of activity for Emily. Immediately the meeting had broken up, Prince David had cornered her, and made it clear that they had to move quickly if they were to have any chance of success in putting her plan into operation. They had agreed on immediate actions, which primarily consisted of ensuring that details of the proposal were spread as widely as possible. The two of them were best placed for that anyway, as a well-loved Prince and the Slayer carried a good deal of influence with public opinion.

Once the information spread, it snowballed. The people were sick of living under the cloud of threatened invasion, and rallied to the cause. Camps were set up around the city, and people flocked to them ready to be trained to destroy vampires. They brought food and livestock with them, and, overnight, the food shortages ceased. Of course, timing was still critical. While the people weren't working on their farms, the food supply was going to diminish, and there would be shortages later. On the other hand, if they weren't successful, it probably wouldn't matter, as the conquering vampires would be sure to feed their stock.

The methods were crude, and casualties were guaranteed to be high, but the people banded together as they had never done before, each determined to prevent the ignominy of becoming glorified cattle, or die in the attempt.

*-*-*

Without a clearer plan, Buffy had continued to travel towards the capital. She was surprised to find the first farm she reached to be devoid of people. This close to the city, that wasn't what she expected. She approached the farmhouse, and knocked on the door to make sure it was empty. To her surprise, the door was opened by an elderly woman, bent and twisted as she walked. She didn't seem afraid of the visitor, if anything she seemed glad to have company. In a rush, Buffy explained as much of her predicament as she dared to. She told her she had a friend, who had been poisoned. She explained that there was an antidote, and that her friend knew it, but he was too ill to walk further.

The woman listened to the story, nodding her head sagely. When Buffy had finished, she closed the door behind her, and crooked her finger at Buffy to follow her to a barn next to the house. Once inside, Buffy stood and looked in awe.

"The family's gone to be trained to fight vampires. They left me, 'cos I'm not a lot of use in a fight, but I know a bit about herb lore and healing. Whatever your friend needs for his antidote, I'm sure you'll find it here."

The walls of the barn were shelved, and the shelves were lined with more herbs and medicinal supplies than Buffy had ever seen. In addition, there were a number of makeshift beds around the room.

"We set it up as a hospital of sorts, just in case it's needed," she explained. Then, she walked out of the barn, leaving a bemused Buffy to follow.

They walked towards a field close to the house, where an elderly donkey was tethered. "They took the horses with them, of course, but they left old Eli. He's biddable, and he'll pull a cart if you lead him," she explained. She didn't even stop there, but immediately untied the donkey, and led him towards another outhouse. There, she started to lift a harness from the wall, but Buffy put a hand on her shoulder, indicating that she would do it. Between the woman's instructions, and Buffy's youth, they hitched the donkey to the cart. 

"Bring your friend here, and I'll help as I can," the woman promised.

"Thanks, er, I don't even know your name," Buffy replied, bemused by the woman's generosity.

"My name's Margot. Not many around these parts wouldn't know it. Still, you can thank me if your friend survives. Go and get him before it's too late."

Buffy shook Margot's hand firmly, amused to notice a slight grimace on the older woman's hand. Buffy's strength was obviously returning, albeit far too slowly for her liking.

She felt better than before now that she had made her decision, but she dreaded the possibility that she might be too late. Was it possible that poison could cause a vampire to dust? She had no idea. Spike's comments seemed to indicate that it was. Slayer training was just a tad preoccupied with more immediate methods of achieving that particular result.

It took an hour to retrace her steps, and as time went on, she could feel the panic rising in her. What if she hadn't followed her path exactly? What if she missed him? Sense of direction had never been her strong point, and as she knew she must be getting close, she concentrated her Slayer strength to recognise where he was.

At last, she felt it, the familiar tingle which had become a part of her existence over the past few days. She concentrated harder, desperate to pinpoint the exact direction. She increased her speed, sighing with relief when she spotted the familiar figure on the ground. His eyes were closed, and his face drawn with pain. 

"Spike," she shouted. He didn't seem to hear, so she tried again as she ran towards him. "Spike, I came back for you."

"Bloody stupid dreams, just go away and let a bloke die in peace, won't you?"

The words were said without opening his eyes, the sound soft.

Without saying anything further, Buffy started on the job of getting Spike onto the cart. She tethered the donkey to a tree close to where Spike lay, and considered how to achieve her aim. If only she had been at full strength, it would have been the work of moments, but, as it was, it was a struggle. She managed to pull the sheet complete with recumbent vampire over to the cart. Kneeling beside him, she tried to pull him into a sitting position.

"Spike, listen, I need you to stand up. I'll help, but I need you to help too."

"Dreams again," he murmured. "Stupid dreams. She's gone, and she's not coming back, and it's hardly bloody surprising. Was going to kill her, I was."

"Spike, we'll talk about this later, but, for now, stand up."

To her surprise, he didn't say anything else, but did start to struggle to his feet. It still took all Buffy's strength to pull him up, but at last he was upright, one arm draped around her shoulders as he leaned heavily on her. She turned him towards the cart, and managed to drag him a couple of steps. Carefully, she lowered his top half onto the platform, then started to try to push his legs up too.

At last, it was done. He lay where she had left him, apparently too weak to move further. She threw his pack and the blankets up beside him, covering him as well as she could, and returned to the donkey.

It took longer to return to the farm. She kept going back to check on him, dismayed that he hadn't rallied at all. It was all very well taking him back to the farm, but, it wouldn't help at all if she didn't know how to make up the antidote to the poison.

When she at last reached the farm, she headed straight for the barn which housed the herbs. She shook Spike, desperate to try to make herself understood.

"Spike, Spike, I've got you somewhere where I can make up the antidote. But, you've got to seem human. I'll turn my back if you want, but you'll have to activate the charm. It's important, Spike."

He gave no reaction at first, then, without warning, his arm moved, taking his right hand to a point at the back of his neck under the hairline. Immediately, his hand moved again, and she was relieved to hear a shuddering breath. She touched his cheek, and it was still too hot. 

She left the cart there, and went to the farmhouse to alert Margot to her return. Margot followed her back, and Buffy unhitched the donkey leaving Margot to return him to the field, while Buffy was left with the job of getting Spike into a bed. Using the same method as she had before, she managed it, although it seemed easier this time since he wasn't lying on the ground to start with. He flopped onto the bed, and was lying on his stomach, with his legs overhanging. Buffy straightened him as well as she could, then tried to turn him so she could talk to him.

She took some deep breaths before trying to waken him.

"Spike," she said, shaking his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open, and for a second, he seemed more lucid.

"Buffy? Is it another dream?"

"No, not a dream. You've got to help me. You said you knew what poison was used. How do we mix an antidote? Tell me what you need."

He laughed at that. It was a weak shadow of the laugh she'd heard before, but it was a laugh.

"Too late, Pet. You wouldn't find what's needed. Too difficult. Unless …"

"Unless what? Spike, tell me, unless what?"

"Concoction's going to take hours to cook. I've not got that long. You'll need some mandrake root, and, you won't find that in a hurry either."

Buffy stood up, and quickly scanned the shelves. She found some, and returned to Spike. "Look, you stupid vampire. I've got mandrake root. What else do I need?"

Shaking his head at the futility, he nonetheless recited the ingredients needed. One by one, she found the various herbs and powders. When the list was complete, she shook him again. "Ok, Spike, we've got what we need. Now tell me what to do with them."

"Need one more ingredient. Not going to get that."

He seemed to find that funny, judging by the giggles that resulted. Buffy couldn't decide whether to hit him or hug him.

She tried asking about the last ingredient, but he didn't seem to hear. At last, she shouted, at the top of her voice.

"What's the last ingredient!"

That stopped the giggles instantly, and his face contorted. "Your blood," he whispered.

"My … blood?"

"Told you, pet. Not going to get the last ingredient, so there's no point."

Buffy stood up and faced away from him. Her blood. Slayer blood? Or just her blood? The idea of supplying her blood to a vampire just reminded her of what the invaders wanted. They wanted humans as a docile food supply, and she wasn't about to provide that. 

Another voice inserted itself into her head. "But this is Spike. If you don't, there won't be a Spike." And she knew she had no choice.

She knelt down again, and shook him until he opened his eyes. "You can have the blood, just tell me what to do."

"Knew it was a bloody dream," he muttered. "Still, nice dream, so might as well go along with it."

It took him ten minutes to describe what she needed to do, and when she was sure she understood, she looked up to find Margot standing in the entrance to the barn.

"I know what I need, and how to make it. It needs to cook, can I …?"

Buffy asked.

"Of course," Margot replied, leading the way into the farmhouse. 

As Buffy laid out the various jars and packages she needed on the kitchen table, she knew Margot was confused. Her brow knitted as she considered what sort of antidote was being prepared. 

"What sort of poison was it?" she asked.

"I don't know, but Spike's pretty clear that this is what you need to put it together."

"Ok," her hostess replied, "but, I've never seen an antidote like this."

Buffy's hands were trembling as she measured out the quantities into a pan Margot supplied. When everything else was ready, she added water, then paused. Fortunately, Margot took that moment to leave the kitchen for some reason, so Buffy looked for a sharp knife. She took a deep breath, then made a cut in her wrist. She allowed the prescribed quantity, or as near as she could measure it, to run into the pan, and turned on the heat. She quickly bandaged her wrist with a piece of cloth hacked out of the hem of her shirt. Margot returned then, and if she noticed the new bandage on Buffy's wrist, she didn't mention it. 

"It's got to simmer slowly, Spike said for about two hours, until the colour changes to red," she explained.

"And you'd like to stay with your friend," Margot added.

Buffy nodded. Margot wordlessly handed her a bag. One glance inside showed it contained clean bandages. She then handed Buffy a basin of hot water. Buffy nodded her thanks, and headed back to the barn.

He was unconscious again, and were it not for the ragged breathing, he would have seemed nothing more than a corpse. Or at least, until she touched him. He was so hot, she was surprised he hadn't just combusted. Something told her that wasn't a good thing, so she shook him again.

"It's on, the antidote's cooking, it'll be ready soon. You've just got to hang on."

"Can't," he muttered. "Too long."

"Stupid vampire," she shouted through tears that were forming in her eyes. "You think I'm going to just let you die after all this? You'd better think again."

"Good dream," he muttered. "Almost worth dying for."

"It's not a dream," she yelled. "Now, is there anything else I can do? Anything that'll help?"

"'Course there is," he replied, smiling. "'Spose there's no harm asking. Dream, after all. Slayer blood's got healing properties. Might keep me going a bit longer …"

"Again with the blood," Buffy murmured. She held up her wrist, noticing that it was still oozing despite her attempt to stench the bleeding. She unwrapped it, and pushed it towards his mouth.

Almost of its own volition, Spike's tongue snaked out of his mouth to lick what was there. One taste, and his face changed, morphing into the demon face. His fangs sank into her flesh and he started to drink. 

She didn't have any idea of how much he needed, but she knew that if he took too much, they would probably both die. After a couple of minutes, she gently pulled away. He fought at first, then seemed to realise what was happening, and his fangs retracted. She quickly rebound her wrist, and looked at him. He was looking at her, his expression a mirror of what she'd seen that morning. He was looking at her with rapt adoration on his face. 

"Know it's not real," he muttered, "but, thanks. It's a good way to die."

With that, his eyes closed, but, to her relief, he didn't turn to dust. Noting that his breathing was steadier than it had been, she turned to pick up the bandages. As she moved away, she noted that he hadn't been exaggerating the aphrodisiac effects of Slayer's blood. Still, while he was unconscious, it couldn't do a lot of harm, could it? She turned him over, and examined his leg. It looked even worse than it had. She washed it carefully before gently wrapping it in the clean bandages.

Buffy had noticed time dragging many times in her life. She needed to be busy, and had never been a patient person, but the time which followed seemed the longest time in her life. She spent the time sitting with Spike, then running to check the potion, disappointed that the required colour change hadn't happened. Margot was around most of the time, but didn't interfere with the potion.

It was dark, and she was on her way to check the potion again. It had already taken longer than Spike had indicated, and she was starting to despair. What if Spike remembered wrong? What if she had done something wrong? It was all she could do not to give way to the panic that threatened her as she made her way back to the farmhouse. She blinked at the mixture through her tears, taking a second before she realised it was ready. The colour had been a natural, light brown colour, but now, it had changed. It was bright red, like fresh blood.

With shaking hands, Buffy managed to pour the potion into a cup, and walked carefully back to the barn. She placed the cup close to the bed while she tried to waken him. It took several attempts, but he eventually opened his eyes.

"Is this hell?" he asked.

"No, Spike, I've got the potion. You've just got to drink it. Sit up, and I'll hold the cup to your lips."

Spike grinned stupidly as she held his head to her breast. "Still dreaming," he giggled. The laugh was infectious, and she stifled the urge to join in. She reached for the cup, and held it to his lips. To her surprise, he morphed to demon face as soon as the scent reached his nostrils, and he drank down the liquid in seconds.

She laid his head on her lap, and stroked his cheek. "It'll be ok, Spike. You're going to be ok," she whispered over and over again.


	22. Chapter 22 Questions, Answers, and More...

****

Chapter 22 - Questions, Answers, and More Questions

Margot stood at the doorway of the makeshift hospital, and looked at her guests. She took in the scene before her eyes with a deep sense of satisfaction and hope. 

"Pleased with yourself?" 

She didn't turn as she heard the words.

"Yes," she replied.

"It's cheating, you know," her companion replied. She turned at these words, and regarded the green face calmly, looking into the red eyes to see if she could discern whether or not he really believed that. With a shrug, Margot seemed to melt, her shape and colour changing until the form of the Phoenix stood in her place.

"I'm not cheating," he stated. "I'm merely providing opportunity."

"You're making this personal."

"If you'd spent all that time on that world, you'd take its future personally, too."

Jared nodded, understanding apparent on his features.

"So, how are they doing?"

"Well, I think. Buffy certainly did as I hoped. I simply have to see how Spike reacts now."

He stood aside, allowing Jared to observe the two creatures, wrapped around one another as they slept.

"Strange," Jared commented. "We've taken every vestige of their history from them, every memory we could find, yet they still reach for one another. For what it's worth, I think they are worthy representatives of their world."

"They are," the Phoenix agreed. "But, that has never been enough."

Buffy couldn't remember being so cold before. She shivered as she woke, and found herself lying on top of Spike's body. They were still in the barn, and it was pitch black. It took her a while to realise the significance of cold. She had gone to sleep, aware that the night air was cooling rapidly, but the heat exuding from a fevered Spike had been more than enough to warm her. That warmth was gone, replaced by a normal, human warmth which wasn't enough for the cool air. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and she guessed it would soon be daylight. 

She got up and stretched, feeling strength in her limbs for the first time in weeks. She looked around the barn, surprised to find that someone, Margot she assumed, had lit a fire in the corner. It seemed to be a hastily adapted arrangement, with a makeshift chimney, but the air close to the fire was noticeably warmer. Making her decision, Buffy dragged Spike's bed closer to the only source of heat, and pulled another bed alongside it. She then took blankets from a number of other beds, and piled them onto the two she had moved. Happy she had done as much as she could, she got into the second bed, and pulled the blankets around her.

When she awoke next, it was morning. She opened her eyes, to see Spike's observing her. "Bloke could get used to this," he drawled, something like his usual manner returned.

"What? What're you talking about?"

"Second time I've woken with you curled next to me. Could get used to it, that's all I said."

"Oh," was all she managed in reply. As an afterthought, she managed, "Morning, Spike. Feeling better?"

"Weak as a bloody new-born lamb, but, yeah, feeling better."

The dreams he'd had were amazing. He couldn't remember ever having dreams like them. He flexed his leg, and a spasm of pain hit him. So, that part of the dream was certainly true. He glanced at Buffy again, but found himself unable to hold her gaze for long. He dropped his eyes and spotted her wrist, still bandaged from the night before. He stared for a second, and then memory assailed him at full power. He could taste her blood, fresh on his tongue, it's unique flavour perfect in any way, his body's reaction to the memory just as powerful as it would be to the blood itself. He was embarrassed to note he was salivating, and pleased his lower half was under several layers of blanket. So, was that a dream too?

Suddenly he was no longer sure. He reached out to touch her arm, and she jumped at the contact.

"Sorry," he mumbled. 

"No, it's ok, you just surprised me," Buffy replied.

"It's just, … I know it's silly, but I dreamed that you, that I … drank from you. Then seeing the wrist, and … but I didn't, did I?"

Buffy lifted her arm, and unwrapped her wrist. The original cut was gone, completely healed, although there was still a faint mark from Spike's fangs, no more than reddening of the skin, but unmistakable. 

She turned her wrist so he could see. 

"No, not a dream," she reassured him.

"Then, why? Why didn't you stake me? Why?"

She shrugged. "I didn't stake you, because I offered. And I offered because you needed it."

Neither seemed to know what to say. Spike's mind was in turmoil. If that was true, then he suspected the rest of it was too. He'd been poisoned, and she'd brought him here, mixed a complicated potion, used her own blood for it, and then, allowed him to drink from her. He had no clue what to make of it.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, staring at the marks on her wrist.

"No, not really," she answered. "And I heal pretty quickly."

Buffy was at least as confused as Spike was. Although she had no doubts as to what had actually happened, her own motivation was still a mystery. In an attempt to cover her confusion, she decided to go and see if she could find Margot.

She headed towards the farmhouse, pleased to find Margot in the kitchen having a simple meal. Margot provided a similar repast for Buffy, and wanted to know if Spike wanted any. Buffy said he would, and agreed to take it to him when she'd finished. She wasn't sure he would actually want it, but, the alternative, asking for some blood for him, didn't seem appropriate.

"He's feeling better, then," Margot enquired.

"Yeah, fever's broken. He's still weak, though. Don't know when he'll be fit to travel."

"Doesn't matter," Margot reassured her. "You stay as long as you need to."

"Thanks."

"You on your way to the war?"

"Yes," Buffy replied. "I suppose I am."

When she had finished eating, she returned to the barn to find Spike sleeping again. She took the opportunity to watch him for a while, drinking in his appearance. Margot was right, what she should do now is head for the war. That meant leaving Spike, and the thought that she'd never see him again didn't exactly fill her with joy. When she considered what he was, and what he had intended to do with her, she couldn't understand exactly why she was less than happy at the prospect of never seeing him again. She just knew that there was something about him that drew her to him.

As she watched, he stirred, so she quickly stood up, pretending to be very interested in the various jars of herbs on the shelves around her. When he moved again, she turned around, and approached him.

"Want something to eat?" she asked.

"Human food? No, not really."

"But you need blood," she offered.

"Not need, really. Slayer blood goes a long way. I could probably go a few days without anything if I had to."

Buffy nodded her understanding. "I think you've still got some in your pack, but there's not a lot left. Does it have to be human blood?"

"No, doesn't have to. Animal will do, most of the time, but I need more of it than I do human. Survived on animal for weeks before now, when I wanted to be inconspicuous."

"Why don't you then? I mean, if you can use animals for food, why don't vampires do that?"

He let out a huge sigh, wondering how to explain it. "Well, I suppose I could ask, why don't humans make do with subsistence level food? I mean, you can survive on a very basic diet, you could do without the things you add to give food more flavour, but you don't. It's a bit like that, but more so. Feeding from a human is more than just sustenance. It's about …. Pleasure. I mean, I think we'd have to feed from a human source sometimes, but, I'm not sure anyone's ever tried an animal diet long term before." 

He paused, watching a multitude of expressions flee across her face. "Why do you want to know?"

She shrugged, and he noticed she reddened a little. "It's just, I never got the chance to talk to a vampire before. I want to understand."

"What? You want to understand us so you can kill us better? 'Cos, I've got to say, I'd have thought it'd make it harder."

Buffy didn't answer. She knew he was right, and it had nothing to do with the current conversation. Getting to know Spike was going to make it impossible to kill him if she came across him in the future. And yet, if he was killing, she'd have no choice.

Another glance at his face showed he had closed his eyes again. Realising he was still very weak, Buffy decided to leave him in peace, and go and find out from Margot if there was somewhere she could have a bath.

She returned a short while later. Margot had promised to start warming water for a bath, but it would take a while. Buffy had wanted to see to it herself, but Margot wouldn't hear of it. She headed back to the barn for want of an alternative. Spike was awake again, and he watched her coming in, his expression unreadable.

"So, what are your plans now?"

"Well, I thought I'd have a bath. Would you like one too?"

"Yes, a bath sounds great," he replied. "But, I meant a little longer term than the next few hours. Suppose you'll be leaving."

"Suppose so," Buffy replied. She had no reason to stay, but the prospect seemed unwelcome. "Yeah, suppose I should head back, find other humans, you know."

"You should," he agreed. He turned his face away, desperate not to let her see the desolation he knew was written clearly on his face. 

Buffy was surprised at the tone of Spike's voice. She could have understood defeat. She could have understood gratitude. She couldn't understand the misery that was apparent in what he said.

"I can't go until you're well enough to travel, 'cos it wouldn't be fair to just leave you with Margot. What'll you do?" she asked.

He sighed deeply. "I'd better go into hiding. People who sent me, don't go in much for failure. Probably spend the next few years making me wish you'd just staked me. So, I'll hide out, see if I can make myself useful to someone powerful, start again."

"Oh," she replied. That explained it. He was worried about his future. Not that she could blame him for that, it all seemed perfectly natural. 

"So, I'll go and fight the invaders, and you'll find somewhere to be useful," she added without really understanding her own need to fill the silence with words.

"Ok, don't make a meal of it," he yelled. "Just go. You've won, even if you didn't do it on purpose. Get out, and leave me. I promise I won't make a meal out of Margot, if that's all that's keeping you."

"Well, I'm very sorry I spent all that time and effort trying to save your life. Least you could say is 'Thanks', but no, stupid vampire, all you can say is 'leave me'."

Buffy stood up and marched briskly to the door.

"Buffy," Spike whispered. It was so different from the previous yell that she turned, surprised. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to yell. And, .. thanks. I know what you did. Can't believe you did it, but I … thanks. Still trying to sort out what was dream and what really happened, but …" 

He nodded. "Still don't understand why you did it. I mean, you'd have killed me quick enough if we'd met under different circumstances. And, I was going to kill you."

Buffy didn't reply. She just turned towards the door, and mumbled something about finding if the bath was ready.

The bath was ready, and Margot had even found Buffy a change of clothes. Buffy wondered at that as she removed what she was wearing. How did Margot know she didn't have anything else? She decided not to wonder too much, but just appreciate the fact.

The bath was a smaller version of the one at the castle. The water was good and hot, and she was able to relax and enjoy the feeling of being clean. When she finished, she pulled on the clothes Margot had supplied. They weren't too practical, but then, she only had to wear them until the others were clean. She pulled on the dress, pleased that it seemed to be a perfect fit. It was dark green, and hugged her body closely to the waist. The skirt was loose, flowing around her legs. She felt remarkably feminine for a change. One distinct disadvantage of being a Slayer was that there were rarely opportunities for just being a woman.

She returned to Spike, and offered to help him over to the bathhouse. He muttered something about not being helpless, and tried to get up. As soon as he tried to put weight on his injured leg, he buckled, and Buffy dived to catch him.

"Maybe a little help'd be useful," he admitted. 

Buffy took a good portion of his weight, and hefted his pack on her other shoulder. The walk to the bathhouse took a couple of minutes, and neither said anything.

The layout of the bathhouse didn't allow Spike a lot of independence. She set him down on a stone bench on the opposite wall to the sunken bath. He managed to undress without help, relying heavily on his uninjured leg. Buffy then had to help him to the steps down into the bath. He was able to sit on the top step, and then work his way down until he was waist deep in the water again, using only his good leg.

He soaped himself slowly, enjoying the warmth. He knew she was watching him, and he considered how much she had done for him.

"Just so you know," he muttered. "Never did want to kill you. Would have, I suppose, but, even if I had the chance now, I wouldn't. Not that it's worth anything. So, when you leave, I promise I won't come after you."

She was silent for a few seconds, taking in this surprising information.

"I'm glad," she replied. "Don't want to stake you either."

He nodded.

Buffy paused, remembering something. "Why did you say it was my fault?"

"What?"

"When the effects of the poison got worse, you said it was my fault. And .. why did it need my blood? Was it Slayer blood? I mean, it's a bit rare as an antidote ingredient."

"Blood for the potion, had to be yours. Didn't matter if you were Slayer or not, wouldn't even matter if you weren't human. Just had to be yours."

"Why?"

"Because you were the cause."

"How did I cause it, though? You haven't made any sense."

Spike didn't say anything. If he told her the truth, he'd be showing her one aspect of how he felt about her, and he'd probably make her uncomfortable. On the other hand, she'd saved him, so maybe she deserved the truth.

"The poison, it's rare."

"You said it was - Vagros demon spit?"

"That's what I thought, at first. Know better now. It's instantly fatal to humans, and that's probably why it was used. Suspect he was worried they'd be overrun, and didn't want to take his chances. It causes pain, but it's not fatal to vampires, unless .."

"Unless what, and how is it to do with me?"

"There's a mystical aspect to it. It's activated by … sexual arousal, and … climax."

"And, I say again, what has that got to do with me?"

"When were we at the house? Night before last?"

She nodded, her face reddening as she remembered the afterglow of the dream.

"I woke, early. You were dreaming. Seemed obvious what sort of dream it was, and, well, it affected me. Went to the privy to do something about it. And, that's what activated the poison."

"Oh," Buffy managed. She knew her face must be flaming, and she kept up a mental barrage of words aimed at calming herself. It didn't work.

"So, the potion had to include your blood. It's not an antidote in the strictest sense, because it's not a chemical effect. There's a magical aspect to the potion, and that's where the blood came in. You activated the poison, so you were needed to destroy it, too."

In the silence that followed, Buffy's mind raced. He knew she'd been dreaming, but did he know who else had been in the dream? She'd affected him, but was that just her, or would any woman have done the same thing? 

Her eyes had been downcast as she thought, and when she looked up, it was obvious that Spike had been watching her the whole time. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to embarrass you," he managed. "Thought I owed you the truth, though. Probably would've been better if I'd never mentioned it being your fault."

"Not embarrassed," Buffy protested.

"Yeah, you always turn that delightful shade of pink when you're not embarrassed," Spike teased.

He didn't give her time to answer, but started to edge up the stairs again, desperate to retain a little dignity. He even managed to stand without help, the warm water freeing up his leg more than he'd have believed possible. He pulled a towel around himself, before allowing her to help him to the other side of the room so he could dress. 


	23. Chapter 23 Recovery

__

I'm getting behind with my writing, so updates may be a bit slower than they have been. The problem is, I'm trying to put together a web site - somewhere that I can put all my fiction together that isn't subject to the vagaries of ff.net. I can't believe how time-consuming it's been so far, and I've barely worked out a 'how to' which (more or less) works.

Chapter 23 - Recovery

When she had delivered Spike back to bed, she went to his pack. Despite the fact that he'd promised he wouldn't try to capture her again, she decided to get herself some insurance. She emptied the contents on another bed, finding the drug he had been using on her, and the syringe he had used to administer it. She picked them up in triumph, and turned to leave the barn.

"Told you I wouldn't hurt you," Spike reminded her.

"I know, and, it's not that I don't believe you, but …"

"It's ok. You haven't got any reason to believe me." 

Despite his words, he looked hurt.

"I just don't want this stuff anywhere near me. You're not the only vampire who can wield a syringe."

He nodded, but looked unconvinced. 

Buffy took her prize, and headed off to destroy it. She actually had meant what she said. Logic told her she shouldn't trust Spike, but instinct told her she could. Despite the fact that she knew she hadn't met him before, there was something familiar and comforting about his presence.

And then, there was the whole guilt thing. Not that she wanted him to kill her, of course she didn't. But, the thought of him giving up everything, becoming a fugitive from his own kind because he was willing to let her go …. Well, it seemed to be a big deal.

She considered what he could do, and an idea slipped into her mind that simply wouldn't go away again. The safest place for Spike would be with her. Helping to repel the invaders.

Wow! That was an idea guaranteed to impress anyone she mentioned it to. Taking a vampire among humans. Endangering their lives. Allowing him to find out what they were planning, and worst of all, on a personal level, giving him the opportunity to change his mind about not killing her.

And then there was Spike's side of it. Just because he'd decided not to kill her, why would he necessarily be willing to betray his own kind? There was no logic in the idea at all, yet the suggestion that it was his best option simply wouldn't go away.

Spike's mind was similarly occupied. He knew that to return to vampire-held territory would pretty well seal his fate. There was only the smallest chance that he could get back to the portal without being picked up and handed over to those who would demand an explanation for is failure. Not that he couldn't come up with a pretty convincing story, but he was certain there was no story that would be convincing enough to save him a very prolonged and painful end.

So, if he didn't go back the way he came, the only choice was to keep going forwards. That meant following the Slayer, and that would guarantee getting staked if she spotted him. Scrub that - when she spotted him. The alternative, that he could actually travel with her seemed completely ridiculous. The last thing she'd want would be to take a vampire with her. He could promise all he wanted, but she wouldn't believe it if he promised he'd not feed from humans. He wasn't even sure he could actually keep that promise indefinitely, but he was willing to try. And that was another surprise. He really was willing to change his life as radically as that. 

Buffy returned about twenty minutes later to report that the day was warming up. Although it was still winter, the sun was warm, and there was almost no wind. 

"Fancy coming outside?" she asked. "It's a beautiful day, and Margot offered that we can use the garden bench."

Spike smiled at the suggestion. Having lived most of his life in a world where sunshine was instant death, spending time outside sounded especially good.

"I'd like that," he replied, his mind momentarily taken from his thoughts about his future. He knew he had to make a decision soon, because at the rate his leg was healing, he'd be able to travel by next day.

Spike made it outside with only a little help from Buffy. Even she was surprised at how much better he was. It almost seemed like the bath had cleaned the remaining poison from the wound, allowing his accelerated healing to kick in fully.

Both were silent for a while, thinking through the ideas they had for the future. Buffy eventually broke the silence, asking, "So, where will you go?"

Spike looked up so abruptly that she was startled. Spike, on the other hand was amazed that she seemed to have been reading his mind.

"Well," he started slowly, drawing out the word. "Promise you'll listen, and not stake me right away?"

"I promise," she said, sounding less than convincing.

"See, if I go back, don't think I'll last very long. Thing is, spending time with you, well, it's made me think. If humans are just for food, I shouldn't be chatting to you. You shouldn't have saved my life. It's given me a chance to get to know you, and, I've got to say, don't much like the idea of you ending up as a happy-meal on legs for some no good vamp. Then, I think, is it right we use you the way we planned? Still a bit shaky on that one, but I'm thinking it's not as simple as I thought before. Maybe some humans would be willing to donate their blood from time to time, but they shouldn't be forced. I'm willing to stick to an animal diet, and you can keep an eye on me anyway. I've already promised I won't kill you, and I'll go one better. I'll help. I'll do my best to keep you safe, if you'll let me go with you, fight off the invaders."

He knew it sounded like he was rabbiting, but the truth was, he knew this was important. He didn't honestly think she was going to fall for it at all, but he had to try.

Buffy listened to his words in something like shock. The idea was so much what she had been thinking, that she started to seriously consider the prospect that he could actually read her mind. She looked at him, and knew he couldn't. His expression was so vulnerable, he couldn't possibly know she had had the same idea. He looked like he'd run if she made a wrong move, although, of course, he couldn't actually run right now.

"Oh," she managed. Her Slayer training came to the fore. No matter how she felt personally about this vampire, she had to consider the safety of other humans.

"It's ok, Buffy, I understand. You don't think you can trust me, and I don't blame you. I'll just head back and try to get to the portal. Maybe if I get to another world, I can hide out among my own kind." 

"This portal, it must be pretty heavily guarded, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, of course it is. We can't have just anyone coming in here and taking over."

"So, what sort of chance do you think you have?"

"I'll be ok, honest. I can be a pretty slippery character when I have to."

"What sort of chance?" she repeated, already knowing the answer.

"Well, ok, maybe not great, but it might work," he admitted. 

"Are you sure you can live on animal blood?"

He looked up in amazement. She was actually considering his idea. "I know I can, for a while, and if it becomes a problem, you'll just have to stake me. It'll be kinder than my own kind would do for me, anyway."

"Ok," she started slowly. "But, there are some rules. First, you stay with me. All the time. I'm not joking here. You get out of my sight once, and someone dies at all suspiciously, and there's a stake waiting for you. Ok?"

He nodded. This seemed too good to be true.

"Second, you make one attempt on my life, and the same goes. I'll stake you if I think for one second that you're even considering a change of plan."

"Agreed."

In truth, this was easier than the first promise. He was so besotted with this girl, that the prospect of hurting her was almost physically painful.

"What else?"

Buffy considered this for a moment. "Can't think of anything at the moment, but if I do, I'll let you know."

She looked up to see Margot approaching across the lawn. She was carrying a tray on which there were glasses and a jug of some sort of fruit juice.

"Beautiful day," she commented as she approached, setting the tray on the grass in front of them.

"It is," Buffy agreed.

"I'm so glad you're feeling better, Spike, isn't it? I'm quite amazed at your recovery."

"Thanks to you," Spike told her. "If you hadn't had the ingredients for the potion, I wouldn't have survived until morning."

Margot nodded. 

"Is there something we can do to express our gratitude? Money? Let us pay for what we've used, at least. " Buffy elbowed Spike in the ribs as she spoke. He had mentioned having money, hadn't he?

"Yes, I'll be glad to reimburse you," Spike agreed.

"Oh, no need. Although, there is something you could do for me. You see, normally, in these parts, black pudding is a local delicacy. Folks from miles around come here to buy the blood to make it. My son stores it here, but, because there're so many people gone to the war, no one wants it. It's going to go off if I can't get rid of it. If you're going to the war, maybe you could buy it and see if you can sell it among the people there.

Buffy and Spike looked at one another. The old woman looked so honest, but it seemed unlikely that she would offer them exactly what would be most useful, and yet hardest to get. Spike had had visions of having to hunt rabbits and the like, and he hadn't been looking forward to that, at all.

"Yes, that'd be fine," he started, looking at the old woman. "How much would you want for it? We can't carry too much, but we'll take what we can."

"Buffy, why don't you come with me and see what we can sort out?"

"Spike, give me whatever money you have, and I'll arrange things with Margot."

"Bossy chit," Spike thought as he handed his money bag to her. "Only just joined the team, and she's giving orders."

He smiled, though, at the two receding figures. Right now, things were perfect. A little too perfect, and something was bound to go wrong, but he'd just enjoy things as they were. In the short term, he could spend time with Buffy, and he'd have enough blood to keep him going for a while - well, at least until it went off. He was feeling great, although he knew that was, at least in part, a result of the Slayer blood he had ingested. 

He got up off the bench, and stretched out on the grass. It felt good. Everything felt good. Soon, he was asleep, and in his dreams, Buffy willingly offered him further nourishment from her veins, and he thought he was in heaven. 

Buffy returned a while later to find him sleeping peacefully. Like that, it was hard to imagine how dangerous he could be. But, she couldn't allow herself to forget. She had agreed to take a quantity of blood from Margot, as much as she thought would keep anyway, and paid what Margot had asked. It didn't seem a lot, really, especially when it had to be specially packed, and Margot was more than willing to do that too. She shrugged off the feeling that everything was going too well, and forced herself to relax. She sat beside Spike's recumbent form, with her back against the bench. For a few more hours, she could forget she was the Slayer, forget there was a war to be fought. And, getting to spend them with Spike was a distinct bonus. 

It was much later. The sky was dark and clear, and the temperature had fallen swiftly. After a simple meal with Margot, Buffy and Spike had returned to the barn, and both were preparing what they needed for the next day. 

Spike was impressed when he saw the blood and how it was packed. It was well insulated, and between that and the cool weather, it would keep for quite a long time. Margot had been busy with other things, too. She'd found some other clothes which she said Buffy could keep, which were a lot more practical than what she'd been wearing since her bath. She claimed that they belonged to her daughter, who had since had three children, and could no longer wear that size. Although they appeared worn, they were in good condition, and a suspiciously good fit. Buffy had hugged Margot when she brought them, thanking her for all she had done. They intended to start early next morning, and probably wouldn't see her again. When Margot turned to hug Spike too, he had looked distinctly uncomfortable, but had come forward and hugged her back. Buffy couldn't help smiling at the expression on his face as he did it though. It said clearly, 'I'm a big bad vampire and we don't hug old ladies!'

Now, they were sitting close to the fire, watching the flames dance. Inevitably, they were sitting close together, and when Buffy looked round for a peek at Spike, she found he was studying her. She turned away quickly in embarrassment. His hand flew to her cheek, guiding her face back towards him. He held her face there, gently stroking her cheek, and looking closely at her. Instinctively, Buffy moved closer to him, her lips just brushing his before she realised what she was doing.

The kiss was over before it started, but Spike was completely dumbfounded. She had kissed him. Buffy had kissed him. He wanted to talk about it, ask her why, ask for another, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the way she would no longer meet his eyes.

At last, both prepared for bed. Neither slept well, the memory of one fleeting kiss burnt onto their memories. It had been sweet, but it hadn't been enough for either. The problem was, neither of them realised they both felt the same way.


	24. Chapter 24 Into the Midst of Temptation

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Chapter 24 - Into the Midst of Temptation

They set off early the next morning. It was cold again, and rain threatened, the sky remaining dark for some time after the sun rose. There was little conversation between Buffy and Spike, except for the necessities of those travelling together. Margot had given them directions to the nearest training camp, and by her reckoning, they would reach it before dark.

They met no one all morning. By the time they stopped for a meal at noon, the rain started, and they felt lucky to find shelter against a large boulder. The wind had increased by then, too, and the rain was falling almost horizontally.

Their stop was, of necessity, short, and they were soon on their way again. Both were having second thoughts about the plan, especially insofar as they had to have a coherent story of how Buffy escaped, and exactly who Spike was. Buffy was first to broach her thoughts.

"So, are you going to keep pretending to be human?" she asked.

Spike turned to face her. He suspected this was some sort of test, but he didn't see that there was more than one answer he could give - at least in the short term.

"Well, yes. If I don't, I reckon I'll be dust in no time. So, I was planning on keeping up the pretence at first. Maybe, once I've had a chance to prove myself, gain some trust, I can go back to being myself."

This didn't elicit an answer from Buffy. In truth, she had half hoped he would be obviously a vampire from the start, as it lessened her sense of responsibility should something go wrong, but she could see his point of view. If he was obviously a vampire, it was almost guaranteed that someone would try to dust him, and her protection might not be enough to prevent it. There were enough people around who had a personal reason for dusting any available vampire without actually waiting for battle. And, the other side of that was the fact that, were he attacked, his promise not to hurt humans might have to be broken. And, once he started, would he be able to stop himself?

Spike had expected an answer. He thought she was hoping for the opposite response, but from his point of view, it would be better if she simply staked him now.

"Is that ok? I mean, did you want me to do it the other way?"

"No, it'll be ok. I know what you mean. But, like I said, you need to stay with me all the time."

That was the one prospect of the coming days that actually pleased Spike. Recent events had made it clear that Buffy was on his mind all the time. He found himself watching her when he thought she wasn't looking. He found himself dreaming about her. And that … whatever it was, the almost-kiss. And the taste of her blood. He could still remember it. Despite his fever at the time, every nuance of the flavour of her blood was crystal clear. 

"So, what's our story going to be?"

"Well, let's keep it simple," Spike said. "I mean, the closer to the truth, the better."

"Ok, so, I was at the castle, and I managed to get away. Let's say the injections - well, maybe someone forgot an injection, and then, when they unchained me, I managed to overpower the guards, and got out. On the way, I came across you. Let's say you were taken as food, so I decided to take you with me?"

"That's really going to recommend me as someone worth having around, isn't it? Why don't we say you met me after the castle. I was on my way to a camp, and decided to go along."

"Ok," Buffy agreed. "But, we've got to have a reason for me not letting you out of my sight."

"Well, there is the obvious reason," Spike drawled.

"And what's that?"

"Well, just that you don't want any other woman to get their hands on me! Think you can pretend you're besotted with me, Pet?"

Buffy shook her head. That would be easier than he supposed, but she didn't want to let him know that.

"I suppose so. It'll take a bit of acting, but …"

"Yes, I know, I'll have to act too, but it's the only thing I can think of that'll work."

"Ok, we'll do that then," Buffy agreed.

By mid afternoon, there were more people around. For the most part, they were heading towards the camp too. Something about the two travellers discouraged company, though. It was something about the way they seemed complete in themselves, as if an addition would destroy the perfect symmetry that they represented. They were making a better job of appearing to be a couple than even they knew.

By late afternoon, they came into the camp and were directed towards someone who would see to billeting arrangements. Buffy seemed surprised at first. Then she remembered. She had expected to be recognised, but she hadn't been.

"You've still got me hidden, haven't you?" she asked Spike.

His face showed that he had forgotten too. They stopped for a few seconds while he muttered the words which would allow people around her to recognise her.

When they arrived at their destination, it was to surprised shouts of "It's the Slayer!" This was followed by them being hastened to the one of the tents to meet with those in charge of this training camp. 

Buffy was welcomed profusely, and made to promise that the story of her escape would be told in detail later. 

The leader of that camp was a Captain Jon Wentworth, and he arrived within minutes. He was a short, dark man, who had only recently been promoted. There had been some major changes in the army since Emily's plan had first been accepted. Prince David had showed himself remarkably astute, and as the plan grew in public popularity, the elected government had quickly decided to support it. As a result, Willis had been replaced as chief of the armed forces by someone more amenable to the cause, and significant changes had been made to the command structure, with those who tried to thwart the plan being moved out of the way.

This war was going to require some rather more basic skills than the army was generally prepared for. This gave the opportunity to some, who had been passed over for promotion in the past, to show their worth. Wentworth was one such.

He met the newcomers with enthusiasm, and not a little awe, at meeting a Slayer. He had seen the other Slayer, of course, but only from a distance. He made sure they had quarters that were as comfortable as could be provided, then sat down to tell them the state of affairs.

"We've seen movement in the last few days, and believe that the invaders plan to attack soon. As a result, all the training camps are being disbanded, and the troops are being gathered here." As he spoke, he pointed to an area on the map. Buffy nodded when she saw it. It was an ideal spot. It was a large plateau a few miles from the capital. It was more than big enough to give them room to manoeuvre, but it would also make it impossible for the invaders to approach the city itself without being spotted. 

"Those left in the city are those deemed unsuited for the more strenuous fighting - the old, children and so on. Even so, they've been provided with bows and they intend to defend themselves with fiery arrows for as long as they're able. If the invaders go straight to the city, they'll find themselves caught between that and the army, as we fully intend to follow them there, and wipe them out."

Buffy was pleased with the plan. A glance at Spike showed he approved too. 

"So, we head out tomorrow?" Buffy asked.

"Yes, we leave at dawn. We're only a half day's march from our destination. There we'll meet up with the others. Your sister Slayer will be there too, along with Prince David. He's taken a major role in setting this up, really shown his worth."

Wentworth was called away then, to deal with some of the necessities of getting the camp moving the following day. Buffy was relieved to be out of the rain, and immediately moved to her pack to find a change of clothes. She rigged up a makeshift screen and went behind it to change. 

While he was alone, Spike spent the time becoming accustomed to his surroundings. He'd been surrounded by humans before, on other operations in the past. He was used to being assailed by the sensations of heartbeats and blood all around him, but in the past, he had known it was temporary. This was his life now. He found it hard to believe in some ways. He had given up everything familiar to him in order to live among humans. His motivation for doing it was really two-fold. It was certainly true that to go back among his own kind would be almost certain death. Even so, had it not been for Buffy, that's what he would have chosen. The part the Slayer played in the decision actually frightened him. The thought of never seeing her again, not being part of her life, seemed more daunting that anything else he could imagine. 

He knew he had fallen in love with her. He didn't know exactly when it had happened, but it had. It was stupid, and he couldn't see how there was any future in it, but there was nothing he could do. 

Buffy changed her clothes with her mind on what was going to happen. She hadn't realised she would meet the other Slayer so soon. She had hoped to have some time to allow Spike to prove his new allegiance before giving him the ultimate temptation of two Slayers in the same place. She felt a sense of dread growing in her stomach at the thought that she had let her own personal feelings get in the way of her good sense. Somewhere in the past few days, she had fallen in love with him. She knew it, but she also knew nothing would ever come of it. He was a vampire, and while he was different from any other vampire she'd met, he'd said he didn't see any point of falling in love with a human. They were talking about vampires taking human pets then, of course, but the rule still applied. He had made it clear that he wouldn't consider it. And, as a Slayer, she had an even shorter life-span to look forward to than most humans. The alternative, that he could change her, turn her into one like him - that frightened her too. She had no idea how she would turn out as a vampire, and the possibility that she'd become one of the ravening creatures she had been trained to kill, terrified her. That she could turn out like Spike, willing to listen, willing to live among humans, seemed impossible.

Yet, if she thought it was impossible for her, why was it possible for him? She peeked over the screen to see what he was doing. He was sitting, looking off to her left. She followed his gaze, but saw nothing of interest. He looked sad. Well, that made sense. Whatever he had in his life previously was lost to him. She didn't fully understand why he was doing it. It wasn't cowardice. She'd seen enough of him to know that wasn't his problem. At least it was sadness she saw. If it had been triumph, she would have suspected that he intended to double-cross her, and she'd have to do something, and quickly.

He turned then, and she ducked back down so he wouldn't know she had been looking. She finished dressing quickly, and went back out.

"Screen's free if you want to change."

He turned towards her, pulling himself out of his own thoughts. Without saying a word, he lifted his pack, and went behind the screens.

As of tomorrow, he knew he had the opportunity to fulfil his original mission. He'd noticed the tension in the air as soon as that information became apparent. He had no intention of reneging on his bargain with her. Apart from the fact that he'd given his word, he couldn't do it. He knew that, but she obviously didn't. He knew he was going to have to watch his step or he'd more than likely find himself on the end of a stake.

When he emerged, someone had brought hot food for them, and Buffy was devouring it ravenously. He smiled at the picture before him. She was completely oblivious to the scene she provided. He joined her, and picked at what was provided. It had to be said, he was starting to enjoy human food. He'd never made a habit of eating it before, but the time he'd spent with Buffy was giving him the inclination for it. It didn't compare with blood, of course, and he wasn't going to derive any nutrition from it, but that didn't matter. She found it pleasurable, and spending time with her when she was happy was a joy in itself.

Knowing that they needed to be up early the next morning, they both wanted to sleep early. Two bedrolls had been provided for them, and they had been placed at opposite sides of the tent. In truth, Buffy had been offered another tent for Spike, but she had declined. The officer who had made the suggestion smiled. Slayers were well known for their habits, and if she wanted to share her sleeping quarters with the stranger, he wasn't going to argue.

Buffy settled into her bed, resigned to spending it at the other side of the tent to Spike. She wasn't happy about it, but she couldn't see any way to suggest otherwise. He wasn't in danger of dusting during the night, and she couldn't think of another excuse. Unless …. Well, it was draughty on her side of the tent. The opening was just there, and the wind was cold. It was enough of an excuse for her. She got up, picked up her bedroll, and pulled it across the tent towards the bemused vampire. "

"Too cold over there," she muttered.

Spike didn't answer. He couldn't see how one part of the tent could actually be colder than the rest of it. It all seemed cold to him. Still, he wasn't going to complain. And he didn't, even when he woke during the night to find her spooned up against him, and his own arm around her protectively. All in all, he thought, it wasn't likely to get much better.

*-*-*

Giles left the hospital in a hurry. He'd just had a run-in with the doctor in charge of Alasdair, and wasn't happy with the result. When Alasdair had first been admitted, Giles had told the staff he was his father-in-law, claiming Emily as his wife, and himself as her father. Of course, none of that was true, but no attempts were made to check the details until recently. 

The problem started when he was approached by another doctor who was putting together a list of likely candidates for a new treatment he was investigating. He had been having serious problems getting any next-of-kin to agree to allowing their family member to take part in the trial because of the risks involved. Giles had been told that the chance of recovery from Alasdair's current state was deemed slight. Of course, that was from a purely medical point of view. They had another option, or they would have if Emily ever returned to this world. Giles had checked with the Phoenix, who had agreed that Emily was Alasdair's only hope. If he became like her, the demon would have no difficulty providing the necessary healing. 

When Giles made it clear that he wasn't happy about Alasdair being part of the experimental trial, the doctor in question had done a little digging, and come up with the fact that Alasdair wasn't married. This fact alone annulled Giles' rights in the matter. The result of the conversation that evening had been to the effect that the doctor in question had said he was going to request that Alasdair be made the responsibility of the courts, and the doctor in charge of Alasdair's treatment was supporting the move. The aim, no doubt was the hope that a judge would decide in favour of the experimental procedure. 

Despite the lateness of the hour, when Giles arrived home, he headed straight for his office. There, he contacted The Phoenix. His request was simple. He wanted Alasdair removed, with all the paraphernalia necessary for his continued survival, to somewhere safe. 

To Giles' surprise, Phoenix seemed to understand the problem instantly. He had had some significant difficulties getting the other creature to grasp the realities of the world. This time, there was no problem. He agreed that an appropriate set up could be put together in the basement, and with the help of some magic, Alasdair's condition could be maintained indefinitely. Giles expressed his concern with that, reminding the Phoenix that it was in the basement that Alasdair had been hurt in the first place. The phoenix apologised for that. He said that the basement was no longer open to such creatures, and there would be no further danger. A little extra planning ensured that Giles, Grianne, and Jenny were all clearly somewhere public at the time of the switch, and everything was agreed.

Alasdair was due to be moved at just after 3 o'clock the next afternoon. The Phoenix didn't elaborate on how it was going to be done, and Giles didn't ask. At that time, Jenny would be collecting Lizzie from school, and Giles and Grianne were due to meet a senior civil servant who was the Council of Watchers' link to the government - a link never before taken seriously by the Council. Giles had seen distinct advantages in keeping those running the country abreast of supernatural developments, as a tool to keep them from interfering too much. So far, it was working well.

It was partly due to this link, that the fates of the families who had run the Council for so long were finally sealed. As a result of a deal with the Government, it was agreed that the money owed by the families be paid as if it were unpaid taxes, allowing everything to appear above board. The fact that the Government took a significant cut of the total seemed to Giles to be a necessary evil. Even so, the coffers of the Council were now extremely healthy, and Giles was able to take steps to ensure that all future Slayers would be paid a comfortable salary, whether they were mortal, or vampire in nature.

The families were, of course, having to do some major rearranging of their finances in order to repay the money they owed, selling everything they could. The fact that they were allowed to do it gradually meant they avoided bankruptcy, but they would never again be in a position to wield power in the Council. While they bemoaned their fate, others recognised the necessity of freeing the Council to appoint those most able to do the job regardless of their birth.


	25. Chapter 25 Declaration

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Chapter 25 - Declaration

The new camp was huge, but even so, it seemed overcrowded. The plateau on which it was situated had a softly inclining climb to the south and west, but to the north and east, it ended in cliffs which, while scalable, could not be climbed with any degree of stealth. The camp was being erected to the north-east of the plateau, with only room for a few lookouts in that direction. The main army would be amassed towards the softer slopes where they could attack quickly and with the advantage of height.

By the time Spike and Buffy got there, the camp was largely erected, and huge supplies of food and fuel had been amassed. The journey had taken place during the morning, and Buffy had had to bear the company of many of the senior members of the army who were travelling then too. Spike had stayed close throughout, despite the many comments from their companions that he should leave her to discuss the upcoming battle in peace. 

He did the journey largely in silence, the only time he spoke being to insist that he would stay close to the Slayer. He was wary of the looks being put his way by the others. He felt vulnerable, and that wasn't something he was used to feeling. Knowing that any attempt to defend himself could be wrongly construed by the Slayer was going to cramp his style significantly, so he found himself on high alert throughout.

In truth, Buffy was no more relaxed. She sensed Spike's anxiety, and, although she didn't fully understand its source, she found it contagious. 

Once at the main camp, they were allotted a small tent for their exclusive use, something few others had. They were allowed only a couple of moments to leave their belongings there before being hustled to the large tent which served as a headquarters.

There, senior army ranks and messengers were coming and going all the time. At the centre of the hub, however, were the two people largely responsible for the effort.

Emily and Prince David had become firm friends during the preparations. Despite the significant age difference, they found they shared a lot of interests, and had a similar outlook on the whole situation in which they found themselves. 

They were discussing the latest report on enemy movements when Buffy was shown into the tent. Naturally, Spike was there too, but those around them did their best to ignore him, having no concept of why the Slayer insisted in having her current bed partner with her all the time.

Emily stood as Buffy approached. She had known Buffy was coming, and although they had never met, she recognised her instantly. She stood and ran towards Buffy, catching the smaller woman in a hug. Buffy instantly returned the embrace, knowing that the younger woman understood what it meant to be a Slayer.

When the introductions were complete, the four were left alone. Emily brought the newcomers up to speed on the plans, but her eyes kept slipping to Spike who had been introduced as a 'friend' with nothing else said.

When the situation was understood, Prince David persuaded Spike to accompany him to look at some further papers as a pretext to leave the two Slayers alone. 

Although he was still visible, Buffy was uncomfortable to be separated from Spike. She was feeling unsure of her decision to allow Spike to come with her, and while she felt sure that two Slayers would be more than a match for him, her conscience was troubled.

Emily soon got to the matter on which she had wanted to get more information - Spike. She wanted all the details, of who he was, and what there was between them. Of course, Emily had some very definite ideas on the subject, and these were very much along the lines Buffy and Spike intended to portray, but she wanted details. She'd spent too much time lately closeted with military men, and Prince David. And, close as they were, there were some things she simply couldn't discuss with him.

Buffy gave the agreed story, and, although it covered the basics, it hadn't given enough details to satisfy Emily. Putting her curiosity to one side, Emily started to share her own story.

"I've got someone, someone special. His name's Alasdair, but he couldn't come with me when the invasion happened. It's been so long since I've seen him, and I miss him. I've been so lonely - you know how it is to lonely when you're surrounded by people? Then, a few days ago, I was training a bunch of new recruits. One of them, he was a natural. Everything I showed them, he could just do. Like that, no effort at all. When the session was over, I spoke to him, wanted to find out a bit about his background. Problem is, he took it as meaning I was interested, and he's been around ever since. David's calling him my shadow. He's ok, I mean, he's charming, and he makes me laugh, but I'm not interested in a relationship with him, and he won't take no for an answer."

"So," Buffy asked, getting into the spirit of a girlish sharing, "what does he look like? Are you tempted? Even a little?"

"I suppose he's good looking, if you like an overhanging brow. Tall, dark, muscled. I suppose he's ok, but he's not Alasdair. Maybe if I didn't have him, I'd want to see how it goes, but …."

"Yeah, I know." Buffy's voice showed her understanding. While it furthered the impression she and Spike had decided to give, she was being truthful, she really didn't think she could look at someone else right now. He was in her thoughts so much, and not just because she was scared he was going to start a massacre. "So, where is he now?"

Emily giggled. "I arranged for his group to be on sentry duty this afternoon, because I wanted time to meet you in peace. I know, I shouldn't have done it, but there has to be some compensation for all the rest of it."

"Yeah, being the Slayer's all responsibility," Buffy agreed.

Spike had, of course, overheard everything. It probably made him seem a little vacant to Prince David, since he was trying to follow two completely separate conversations at the same time, but the prince just didn't hold his interest like Buffy did. He was desperate for some hint that she actually cared for him, but all he got was the agreed story. There was nothing new added, and, while Buffy seemed remarkably good at putting forward the agreed story, he had nothing to reward his listening.

He mentally kicked himself. Why would he even think that she could care about him? He was nothing more that a creature she'd taken pity on. Maybe even this new man, the one who'd been wooing Emily, would interest her. And, he didn't know if he could take that. The thought that someone else could touch her, wake up beside her, was almost enough to cause his demon face to emerge. Only the utmost control prevented a premature end to their pretence.

At last, they were free to return to their tent. Emily had agreed to meet up with Buffy that evening, promising that, in all probability, her admirer would be there too. They went back, relieved to have a few moments to themselves before the formal planning meeting arranged for the late afternoon. They'd just got in, and Spike had delved into his supplies for blood. He drank it quickly, aware that Buffy might find the whole 'drinking blood' thing distasteful.

Buffy watched him while he drank. He felt her eyes on him, for the first time since becoming a vampire, wishing he didn't have to drink blood.

"I didn't think we'd meet Emily this soon," she told him.

"Frightened I wouldn't keep my word?"

"Well, a bit. It just seems so unlikely that you'd give up everything."

"I gave my word, and that's not something I do lightly. And, as to giving up everything, I don't see it that way."

"Why not? If you just did what you set out to do, you could go back, .."

Spike looked closely at her. His reasons were clear to him, but they weren't to her. "Buffy, look, I've got my reasons. Apart from what I said, which was true, there's another reason. I couldn't kill you. I mean it. If you came at me now with a stake, I'd defend myself, but I wouldn't kill you even if I got the chance."

"Why, Spike? I don't think I can go on with this if I don't understand. I'm scared that I've made the biggest mistake of my life letting you come with me. Why shouldn't I go and tell Emily, and let her stake you?"

"Why wouldn't you do it yourself?"

"I'm not sure I could, not unless I felt threatened by you."

He took a deep breath. He could feel the uncertainty coming off her. He knew it was going to affect everything she did, and some time soon, that meant fighting. The prospect that she might be killed because she was distracted worrying about what he was doing, .. Well, he didn't want to think about that. The alternative was to tell her the truth. That would more than likely come under the heading of making her feel threatened too.

She could see the various expressions flitting across his face as he tried to decide what to tell her. "So, Spike, why? Why would you give up your chance to do what you set out to do? Give me a reason to trust you."

"Well, Pet, I'm not sure it'll give you a reason to trust me, but I'll tell you the truth. I .. I love you. I didn't plan it that way, and I'm not going to take advantage of you, I mean, I had the opportunity already, and I didn't, so, please believe me. It's just .."

The words had come so quickly, but, just as quickly they dried up, leaving him floundering.

"I see," Buffy managed. Logic told her she shouldn't believe him. Her own feelings for the vampire were strange enough, how could she believe they were reciprocated? And yet, she instinctively felt truth in his words. It was the same instinct that told her she could trust him.

"I'm sorry, Pet. I didn't want to upset you. It's just, you're right. Everything you knew about me, about my motives just didn't add up to enough for me to do what I've done, what I've promised to do. So, you deserved the truth. I'm just sorry if the truth's painful. I just .."

Buffy crossed the short distance between them. There was no conscious thought in what she did, just the belief that it was the right thing to do. She put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him. The kiss was gentle, and Spike took a few seconds to respond at all, so different was her reaction from what he had expected. Within seconds, all gentleness was gone, as they both explored one another with a ferocity born of being too close for too long without relief.

Despite everything, Spike pulled away after a few moments. "Buffy, what are you doing? You keep that up, and I'm not going to be able to stop, and I don't want to get staked right now."

"Spike, I'm probably crazy, I know that, but, the reason I suggested you come with me, was because, I've fallen for you too. I don't know when, and I really don't understand why. I need you to be near me. And, I want this."

As she spoke, she gestured to the fact that their bodies were close, arms around one another.

"How long have we got before that meeting?" she asked.

"Long enough," Spike replied before pulling her towards the bedding.

"What if someone comes in?" Buffy asked.

"Bit daft if they did. The whole charade we've been pulling was designed to make them think we'd be jumping one another every chance we get. I think they'll leave us alone."

And they did.

*-*-*

Alasdair seemed comfortable in the basement of the Council headquarters. There was some sort of shield around him, which was impenetrable, and which the Phoenix had assured Giles meant that his condition would be unaltered. He wouldn't need to be ventilated or nutritional drips while the spell lasted. 

Of course, the hospital authorities had launched an investigation into what had happened to one of their patients. The ICU ward was an open-plan affair, and it was impossible to go in or out of it without passing the ward office which was normally manned. Despite that, the first indication that something had happened was the alarm which indicated a lack of heartbeat going off, yet when they arrived at the bed, it was empty.

Giles and Grianne were now spending a good deal of time looking at the various employees of the Council. Many, especially among the lower ranks, were loyal to the Council, and genuinely tried to do a good job. Some of these had been passed over for promotion in the past because of a lack of loyalty to the management structure, and Giles made a point of assessing these people carefully with a view to them taking up more senior positions when they became available.

A number of senior positions did become available quickly. Some Watchers simply decided they couldn't work with the new Master, and chose to take their skills elsewhere. Others tried to stay, apparently happy with the new structure, but secretly looking for ways to undermine it. Giles was interested to note that he was able to uncover a good deal of this, and the perpetrators were dealt with accordingly. He knew it would take some time, but Giles fully intended to put together a team of senior Watchers who could effectively run the Council without him taking an active routine part. Giles was more interested in getting out into the field and seeing for himself where the danger to humanity lay, rather than remaining behind a desk. 


	26. Chapter 26 Sacrifice

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Chapter 26 - Sacrifice

The meeting was even more boring than Buffy had feared. It started predictably enough, with the two Slayers being shown to seats at the top of the table. There was no seat for Spike, of course, who shrugged and improvised, finding a stool somewhere and putting it behind Buffy. It gained him a lot of disapproving looks, of course, but he ignored them. Fortunately, such was the status of a Slayer, and in particular, his Slayer, that no one said anything.

The only news of significance was that the enemy had moved. Substantial troops had been building up for several days, and in the past twenty-four hours they had moved forwards. They were now about ten miles inside what had previously been considered to be the line, and they were waiting there. They were still too far from the plateau for the humans to attack, but it was obvious that the time for battle was near. Reports claimed that the vampires were waiting for a signal of some sort, but there was no information on the form it would take.

Spike suspected he knew what the signal would represent, but he had no idea how it would be made. He had assumed that the news that he had killed the two Slayers would be announced by the humans themselves, thereby indicating to the invaders that it was time to attack. This news suggested something more immediate, and he had no idea what form it might take. He determined to discuss his thoughts with Buffy later, when they had a chance to be alone.

Of course, being alone with Buffy now brought another whole train of thought to his mind. The short while they had before the meeting had simply been enough to whet his appetite for the Slayer. Their love-making had, of necessity, been swift, and while satisfying in itself, it had opened up so many possibilities that he felt he would never have enough time to experience everything.

Buffy's mind was likewise only half on the proceedings in hand. Since Spike's surprise declaration, and her own admission that she wanted him too, her thoughts kept straying to the vampire. She had been surprised at how little her treatment at the castle had affected her response to him. It almost seemed like something she had read about, or had happened to someone else. Spike had been so gentle, too, allowing no comparison with the brutality of that experience.

Their short time together had only shown her a small sample of the pleasure they could bring one another, and it was so different from all her other experiences of that nature, even those entered into willingly, that she had been left breathless. She wanted to touch him, to be sure he was close, and she found her hand snaking between her chair and the adjacent one to rest on his knee which was behind her. Even this simple contact allowed her to relax, knowing that he was close. She had only one regret, and she intended to remedy that when next they were alone. She hadn't told him that she loved him. She'd said other things, but not those words. She smiled to herself as she imagined his expression when the actual words were said. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew they would be important to him.

The meeting dragged on interminably. After the important information had been disseminated and discussed, each person around the table seemed to feel it necessary to give everyone else there his own interpretation of the facts in some sort of lame attempt to justify his presence at the table. Therefore, it was late, and both Slayers had been squirming in their chairs for some time when Prince David called the meeting to a close, with advice that everyone get a good night's sleep.

Escaping from the tent, Buffy was immediately accosted by Emily and regretted her promise to meet the other Slayer after the meeting. Her only thoughts were for how soon she and Spike could resume their exploration of one another.

Emily suggested heading to the north of the plateau, where the cliff was at its steepest, and the view of the valley around stretched to a wide river. Buffy agreed, and Spike, naturally, followed. To get to the spot in question, they had to walk through a thicket of trees, and this provided a barrier from the camp itself. They hadn't been there for long, when footsteps were heard. Emily gave Buffy a wry smile to indicate that she had expected this.

Sure enough, moments later, a tall figure emerged from among the closest trees, and approached Emily. He was close to her, his arm around her waist when Spike first got a look at his face. Without his enhanced night vision, he wouldn't have recognised him, but with it, he had no doubts. It was Liam Sullivan, erstwhile commander of the advance party. 

The other vampire gave Spike a look of recognition, but said nothing. Spike immediately moved closer to Buffy, burying his face in her hair, and whispering three words. "Trust me, love." As he spoke, he had intentionally scuffled his feet in the gravelly ground beneath them, hoping to mask his words to all but Buffy. She looked at him quizzically for an instant, then made the decision to wait and see what happened.

Emily had been trying to push Liam away, but he hadn't taken any notice. 

"Come on, Emily. You know why you brought us here. The other two are too wrapped up in each other to notice us, so we can do what we want."

While he had been speaking, he had manoeuvred Emily towards a tree, and his weight was now holding her immobile against it. He put his lips to hers, kissing her brutally, and taking no notice of what the others were doing.

Spike took his cue from Liam, and started to kiss Buffy, moving her as he did so closer to the other couple. While his mouth was occupied, his hand slipped to the waistband of Buffy's trousers from which he removed a stake. He stashed it up his own sleeve, then glanced at the other couple, and noticed that Liam had produced a syringe and was currently emptying its contents into the other Slayer's arm, his use of her mouth stopping her from crying out. When he had finished, he pulled an identical syringe from a pocket and handed it to Spike. 

Spike took the syringe, and quickly pushed the needle into Buffy's arm, discharging the contents which would ensure she was no longer a physical match for the vampires. Buffy tensed as she felt the needle go in, letting out a single cry of pain. She tried to struggle, but the effect of the chemical was almost immediate, and she could feel her strength leaving her.

"Why are you here?" Spike barked at the other vampire. "This was supposed to be a solo effort."

"Well, yes, but we decided on a contingency, just in case something went wrong. And, when we heard what happened at the outpost, well, it looked like you were going to fail. I must say though, I'm impressed," Liam intoned, holding Emily effortlessly against the tree, and running a hand up and down her body.

"You still managed to stay with her. I didn't think you had it in you - to keep her subdued without the drugs. What did you do?"

"I told her I loved her," Spike replied, his voice implying a total lack of anything resembling respect for the Slayer.

Liam laughed at his response. "And she believed you? How could a vampire love a human? It's ridiculous. I mean, I'm not averse to using them. I had yours first, you know, when she was at the castle. Of course, I didn't let her see my face then, just in case. Not bad too, but I think this one'll be better. She's not so used, of course, and it'll be so sweet to kill her at the height of my pleasure. That what you're going to do?"

"Too risky," Spike replied. "They've got to die at the same time, so we need something predictable. I'd go for just breaking their necks, or, if you're really desperate to do it your way, I could just wait and break her neck when you finish with the other one. How's that sound? I've already had her today, so I'm not missing too much."

Buffy felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. She had been hurt before, and the last comment was enough to break her heart, but the knowledge that her gullibility was going to be the ruin of her world was too much for her. Spike laughed at her predicament, an evil laugh that chilled her blood. He looked back towards the other couple, and saw Liam considering his options.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to have her. So, if you want to wait until she's almost dead, you can do it your way. Are you going to watch the show?"

"Thought I would," Spike grinned nastily as he spoke. 

Liam laughed at Spike's response, and turned his attention to Emily. He started to rip at her clothing. Spike took off his belt, and quickly used it to secure Buffy to a nearby tree. He then moved closer to the couple who now lay on the ground. Emily's clothing was providing little impediment to Liam's hands now, and he was moving to loosen his own. So engrossed was he in what he was doing, that he didn't notice how close Spike was. 

The next thing that happened took Liam completely by surprise. Something grabbed him by the collar and pulled him off the weeping and trembling Slayer. He looked in surprise when he saw Spike standing in front of him with a stake in his hand.

Spike gestured Emily towards Buffy, and the Slayer scuffled across to untie the other woman.

The fight that ensued was more furious than either Slayer had ever seen. The speed at which the two vampires moved effectively precluded the two Slayers getting involved, devoid of Slayer strength and speed as they were. They held each other, both shaking from their ordeal. Emily had no idea what was responsible for the latest turn of events, while Buffy was torn between relief that Spike hadn't allowed Liam to rape Emily, and fear that his intention was to kill them both himself. She knew enough about Spike to know that he didn't see the point in hurting others unnecessarily, and she just didn't know what his final intention might be. She knew she should run, go and alert the camp, but she was riveted to the spot, the familiar lethargy from the drug adding to her need to see what happened.

Despite the ferocity of the fight, the noise wasn't great, and no one in the camp seemed aware of what was happening. The two vampires seemed evenly matched, and the two continued to try to gain the upper hand.

It was inevitable in the end that Liam would achieve that aim. He cared only for himself, while Spike didn't want the two Slayers hurt. After throwing Spike away, Liam scrambled to where the two Slayers huddled, pulling a knife from his belt.

"Slayer or not, a knife in the heart is bound to be fatal," he said, allowing the knife to hover close to Buffy's chest. Unseen, his other hand was pulling a stake from Emily's pocket, and Emily was too shocked to notice.

Spike froze, taking in the situation. "You kill her and not the other one, and you'll fail. And, you can't kill both of them and keep me off at the same time."

"True, but I can kill this one," he said, indicating Buffy. "I knew you had some funny ideas, but this whole 'painless death' thing's the most perverted thing I've ever heard of. I should've guessed back at the castle, when you didn't take a turn at her before you took her away."

Spike shrugged. "Ok, you win. What do you want me to do?"

"Easy, I want you to kill the other one. I've got this one. You got a knife?"

Spike nodded, pulling one from his belt. He had been given it earlier by Prince David who told him it was inappropriate that the partner of a Slayer was unarmed. He moved towards Emily, who looked up with terror-filled eyes.

"Right, this is how it's going to be. A knife to the heart's fatal, but not instantly. I'll stab her, and then you can break the other one's neck at the right instant. Any suggestion that you're going to interfere, and I'll stake you." As Liam spoke, he showed the stake which was in his other hand. Come here," he ordered Spike. Without further comment, Liam pulled Spike's shirt out of the way, placing the stake over Spike's heart. He pierced the skin with it, moving it part of the way into his flesh, but stopping short of his heart. Spike made no sound even though the pain from the wound must have been tremendous.

"So, one wrong move from you, and it's all over." The words were simple, but Spike knew they were true. Held as he was, the merest flick of Liam's wrist would result in the stake entering his heart. It looked as if he had run out of choices. 

Without in any way lessening his hold on the stake, Liam altered his grip on the knife, preparing for the thrust which would end Buffy's life. He looked at the Slayer, saw the resignation on her face, and started to push the knife home. 

He didn't spot the sudden movement to his side. In a last gasp attempt, Spike had pulled Liam's hand away from Buffy's chest, and was trying to bring a stake to Liam's own chest. Liam simply increased the pressure of his hand on his own stake slightly, and Spike dropped the other stake as he realised he was about to die for the second time.

In the instant it took for the stake to complete its awful task, he turned to Buffy, his face showing his regret, and he managed just two words. "Love you," before he turned to dust.

_No, this isn't finished yet. I thought I'd better make that clear before the hate-mail starts. There're another two chapters to go at present. That should be enough to finish the story unless some extra twist occurs to me. Although, I'm not saying you won't want to shout at me when the story **is** finished.._


	27. Chapter 27 Grief and Promises

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Chapter 27 - Grief and Promises

As she sat watching Spike's dust fall to the earth around her, Buffy felt the world lurch, as time seemed to stop, and instantly re-start. As it did, she remembered. She remembered who she was. She no longer needed to breathe, she knew had been dead for years. With that knowledge came confirmation that Spike was gone. She tried to take a deep breath, but it hitched in her throat, and she started to sob.

Emily seemed less aware of the change, but then she had been more bewildered before. She looked at the other Slayer with dawning comprehension. She knew Spike. She remembered him, she remembered Liam, or more correctly, she remembered Angelus. He was looming over them both, the knife still in his hand, a look of triumph on his face.

All three were surprised to hear words from behind them.

"It is done. The sacrifice has been made."

They turned around to see a green, human-like creature and a bird of the most amazing colours approaching. Buffy recognised the green creature as Jared, the being who had welcomed her and Spike to this world. Before her eyes, the bird shimmered and changed, becoming Margot.

"What?" Buffy managed, her grief temporarily overtaken by amazement.

"The test is complete, and the sacrifice has been made," Margot said, gently, dropping to her knees to put an arm around Buffy's shoulders.

"But Spike ..?" she managed.

"He made his choice, and he gave his life in the hope of saving yours."

"It would've been better if he'd let me die," Buffy muttered, bitterly.

"Would it? Let me explain the nature of the test." Margot's voice was gentle and soothing but it was lost on Buffy.

"I don't care about the test! Spike's gone. How can I go on without him?"

"Buffy, this is important. The test was designed so that a choice would have to be made. There were two options. If the choice was made for selfish reasons, you would fail. Since that was not the case, since Spike chose to die so that you might live, you have passed the test. Your world will now have the benefit of the New. Emily can return and begin her work. The result of this will be of infinite benefit to the people of your world. Would you really change that? The alternative, is that Emily will die, and Angelus will be given dominion over your world. That was to be his reward for his efforts in the task."

Buffy shuddered at the prospect of a world run by Angelus. She shook her head. "I can't wish it changed then, but, I need him."

"I know. But, you must promise me something."

Buffy's thoughts immediately flew to indignation. She had just lost the only man she would ever love, and now this creature wanted her promise. Despite that, old habits die hard, and her duty as the Slayer came to the fore.

"What?"

"You must help Emily. She has much still to learn, and she needs your help. Promise?"

Miserably, Buffy just nodded. Her first reaction had been that, on return to her own world, she would simply go for a walk in the sunshine, the prospect of living without Spike too impossible for her to consider. Now, that would have to wait. She'd let Emily learn what she needed. It wouldn't take too long, and then she'd join him, wherever he was, be it heaven or hell. She could almost hear his voice, telling her to live for him, to carry on and be happy without him. But then, he had never fully understood how important he was to her. Despite everything they had experienced together, he still believed that a large part of what tied her to him was the Sire/childe bond. Buffy knew differently.

Having obtained her promise, Margot gestured to Jared who move aside to show a portal like the one they used to travel to this world.

"One more thing," she began. "As a reward for your efforts, henceforth, the New, and those made by her, will no longer have to avoid the sun on your world. That boon will remain with you for as long as you keep the good of the people of your world in your hearts. Know, too, that you can share this gift with other vampires by simply sharing your blood with them. Be careful with this gift, though. It gives power to those who have it, power you may later wish they not have."

Emily nodded her understanding of that, at the same time determining that Buffy should be the first to benefit from the gift.

During the whole exchange, Angelus/Liam had sat, frozen to the spot. Now, Jared turned towards him.

"You have failed the test. You were charged by your mistress with ensuring that a selfish choice would be made, and you failed. Therefore, you must return."

Angelus' face became a mask of terror, and he got up in an attempt to run. He was prevented from doing so by an unseen force, and instead pushed towards the portal.

As he got close, Buffy saw the unmistakable sight of Sinistra coming from the portal to reclaim her consort. She grabbed Angelus and pulled him towards her, muttering under her breath about punishment, while Angelus screamed in terror. The two entered the portal, where they seemed to instantly disappear.

"Now, it's your turn," Jared said softly. Emily helped Buffy to her feet, and took the sobbing Slayer to the portal. She had tears in her own eyes, and it was all she could do to see where she was going. She stumbled on, aware of nothing other than her own sorrow, and the trembling of the woman she supported.

The cool of the night air was instantly replaced by the warmth of indoors, and Emily found herself in a corridor made from some strange materials. She started to walk along it towards what appeared to be a lift, when, to her surprise, the lift door opened, and Giles, Jenny and Grianne emerged. They rushed to the two Slayers, taking the bereft Buffy from Emily, desperate to understand what had happened. Somewhere in the back of Buffy's mind, the fact that they were back in the basement of the Council headquarters registered, but she had no words. 

The two Slayers were taken upstairs to the Giles' flat, where tea was made in an effort to revive the two women. Buffy was silent throughout, unless one counted the sobbing that was heard on a regular basis. 

It took some time before Emily was coherent, but at last, she could tell the story. She found she also knew a lot of what had passed between Buffy and Spike in her absence, so she told the tale in as much detail as she could.

"That's what it meant," Giles said, at the end of it. "It said there would be a sacrifice. It had to be either Spike or Buffy, and Spike made the choice."

There was silence then, and there were open tears from Jenny and Grianne, and even Giles found his eyes filling, although he did his best to keep that fact secret. Englishmen, after all, don't cry in public.

At last, Emily asked what she needed to know. "Where's Alasdair?"

Giles cleared his throat. "Well, now, don't worry. He'll be fine, it's just, he and Grianne were attacked after Buffy and Spike went through the portal. He's, well, he lost a lot of blood. He's in the basement."

Emily was confused by this. It made no sense. If Alasdair was going to be fine, why would he be in the basement, and why wasn't he part of the welcoming party? She headed straight for the lift, with Grianne and Giles in pursuit. Without discussion, Buffy stayed where she was, and Jenny remained with her. In truth, Buffy didn't understand anything much beyond the fact that Spike was gone. Nothing else had penetrated her consciousness.

One glance at Alasdair had Emily running towards him. Giles was patiently explaining the situation, along with the Phoenix's promise that he could be saved by Emily. 

"You mean, I've got to kill him?"

"Well, yes. He's in some sort of stasis right now. But, if you change him, he'll be like you."

"But I love him as a human! I don't want him to be like me."

"Well, it's your choice, of course. Buffy could do it, but then he'd be soul-less, and, quite probably evil. "

"But, .."

"Emily, I think he'd want this. The one reservation he had about your relationship was the fact that he's already older than you, and that he's going to age, and you're not. Without that concern, he'll be happier."

"But, that didn't matter to me!"

"I know that, but, can you honestly say you were happy knowing that in maybe fifty or sixty years he'd die, leaving you with the rest of eternity?"

"I tried not to think about it," she admitted. "It seems like such a long time."

"Look, if you decide to do this, let me know. We can let you have somewhere .. private. You can even take him home, if you want, to his cottage, or to the house he rented in London. Whatever you want."

Emily nodded, and sat beside the bed on which Alasdair lay. She took his hands in hers, and felt the tears start again. This time, she was crying for herself and Alasdair rather than Buffy. When she realised that, she knew what she had to do. At least she had a choice. Buffy had none. She would take Alasdair in whatever form she could have him. She sat beside him for another half an hour before letting the others know her decision.

Next morning, Emily, Giles, Grianne, and Buffy left London with Alasdair. It was all arranged with the help of the Phoenix. It was late when they arrived at Alasdair's cottage, and, at Emily's request, the others left her and Alasdair alone with reminders that they were only a few miles away if she should need them.

The others went to Buffy's home, and unpacked what they had brought with them. Both Giles and Grianne were worried about Buffy. Apart from the sorrow they themselves felt at the prospect that they would never again see his blonde-topped head, or hear his ever-present comment on the world around them, they were distraught at the effect Spike's loss had had on the other vampire. She had said nothing beyond an occasional grunt, yes or no as occasion demanded. She had only fed because Giles and Emily had insisted on it. In fact, it was Emily's reminder of the promise Buffy had made that resulted in her feeding at all.

Buffy relived the moment when her Sire and her love turned to dust over and over. Although, in the instant when it happened, she hadn't remembered their true history, she had been devastated. Now, with all of her memory intact, it was as if she had lost the two most important people in her life. Both of her Spikes were gone. The one who sired her, making her love him almost instantly, and the one she had met and fallen in love with despite a false history which should have precluded such feelings. But, she had promised. She had promised to be around to help Emily until she was settled into her role. She considered her options. Two years. She would give Emily and Alasdair two years, then she would end her existence. The others, she knew, believed that once she was over the shock of Spike's death, she would find another reason to live, but she also knew they were wrong.


	28. Chapter 28 Epilogue

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Chapter 28 - Epilogue

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Two years later

The most recent apocalypse had been averted. The small gang of stalwarts had slumped, exhausted, in the room they'd used for planning as dawn approached. Buffy threw off the last tendrils of sleep and sat among her sleeping friends.

She considered the past two years. Well, just over two years. This was the third apocalypse they'd averted in that time, and that didn't count all the evil they had thwarted before it became such a serious threat. 

She smiled at the picture before her. Emily and Alasdair slept entwined around one another. Despite the fact that both were fully dressed, it seemed somehow improper that she should witness their closeness. In another corner, Josh and Sarah lay together. Although not so intimately arrayed, their closeness was unmistakable.

She felt a small pang when she remembered that Giles was not here for this apocalypse. He'd been injured earlier in the year, and had been unable to leave London. Throughout the time since her return, Giles had spent his time divided between following Emily's band of heroes around the world, and spending the necessary time in London ensuring that the Council of Watchers lived up to its mission. As a result, the band had been all but homeless, living in a succession of rented accommodation and hotel, fortunately all paid for by the Council.

Grianne was closest to Buffy. The woman had sworn that this was to be her last apocalypse, and had offered to train someone to take over her role as magic co-ordinator for the group. She'd approached Buffy for the task, recognising that, as Emily and Alasdair grew more assured in their role, Buffy's position in the group seemed less significant. Buffy had declined, pointing out that she'd just get the pronunciation all wrong and summon demons to kill them all when what she intended to do was provide a bit of light.

Buffy thought about this latest trial. She had felt somewhat superfluous. The other vampires were growing in strength and confidence, and when you added that to Alasdair's experience and their own natural intelligence and flair, they simply didn't need her any more. She had stayed on to the end of this threat simply out of habit.

She noticed that it was still daylight. She might have to wait a little longer. Of course, Emily had offered to share her resistance to sunshine with Buffy, but the offer had been refused. As a vampire, Buffy had never shared sunlight with Spike, and without him, there just didn't seem to be any point. And, of course, it gave her a nice, simple, get-out clause. One she intended to use soon.

She'd been planning her next move for some time, but now the time for planning was over. Careful not to waken the others, she got up and gathered her meagre belongings together. At least this time the action hadn't been too far from home. Home .. She hadn't been back since just after Spike.. Even now, she couldn't form the words without the tears starting, so she thought in part-sentences and ideas. 

She glanced out of the window, careful to keep away from the lethal rays that penetrated. Loch Ness glistened in the late afternoon sun of a beautiful Spring day. One thing she was proud of was the fact that she'd at last started driving this past year. Her small car was sitting outside, in the shade of the building, and she thought it would be safe for her to leave in a few minutes. It would take her a few hours to get home, but then, well, timing was up to her.

She slipped into the kitchen of the rented cottage, and carefully opened the back door. She regarded the level of shade between the door and her car, and decided it was sufficient, providing she was quick. She swung her bag over her shoulder, and made a dash for it.

Once in the car, she spent some time getting comfortable. The foil on the windows seemed intact, so she didn't have to do any repairing.

As she pulled away from the cottage, she drove past the scene of last night's battle. Several, huge, long-necked creatures lay dead and broken. She wondered if they were the origin of the legend of Nessie, or if they were the result of some sort of a sick joke. Their resemblance could hardly be coincidental.

When she'd been told that a new Hellmouth was threatening to open under Loch Ness she'd smiled. The ancient legends of the Monster of the Loch were well-known. The demon who'd attempted to open a portal under the water had used these creatures to try to beat off the opposition. And, it had been hard. They were huge, and, unlike most of the tourist images of the monster, they had sharp teeth, claws, and a tongue which darted fifty yards at a time out of its mouth with deadly accuracy to grab anything it considered worth eating. And it seemed to think that anything that moved came into that category.

She winced as she moved in her seat, the injury she had taken around her waist when that vicious tongue had claimed her earlier opening again with the movement. She checked the bandage and decided it was sufficient for the moment, and carried on her way.

She drove slowly. Once she was away from the area close to Inverness, she hardly met another car, and she enjoyed the journey. She was doing her best to store memories of this part of the world which she and Spike had adopted as their own. It had been so long since she had just looked around.

It was fully dark when she arrived at the croft. She knew others had been keeping it habitable for her whenever they were in the area, but she hadn't been back. She opened the door, relieved to find it just as she remembered. She wandered into their bedroom. Spike's things were still in the drawers and wardrobe, a constant reminder which she had decided she should avoid. Until now.

As she looked through his drawers, she came across a ring. It had the form of a skull on it, and, she remembered, he had worn it constantly until she had given him another ring. Then, this one had been abandoned to the drawer. She slipped the ring onto her finger and closed the drawer.

She went to her pack, and pulled out a bag of blood. It was the last she had, but that really didn't matter. She wasn't planning on needing any more. In truth, she didn't really need this one, but it was all part of the plan. She poured the blood into a mug and warmed it. When the signal that the microwave had finished sounded, she picked up the mug, holding it between her hands as if to warm them.

She took the mug, and headed for the door. Often, she and Spike would do this. They'd take some blood, and drink it on the beach. Then, they'd go for a walk, dipping their feet in the icy water, and holding hands like teenagers. Sometimes, they'd find a secluded spot and make love, but, she thought sadly, that wasn't on the menu for tonight. Often, they'd be so wrapped up in one another, that they'd hardly notice how close the sunrise was, and they'd have to run for shelter. That was one problem she wouldn't have tonight. She wouldn't need shelter.

Emily was the first to notice that Buffy had gone. She assumed at first that she had simply gone into another room, but there was a niggling doubt at the back of her mind which made her go and check. When she saw that Buffy's car was gone, she raised the alarm.

Alasdair was the only other person who understood the significance of what was happening. They had both noticed the differences in the past year. Buffy had been leaving more and more of the decision making and planning to them, and been more inclined to simply follow their lead. During this latest situation, she had done everything they had asked of her, and more, but she had kept to the background as much as possible. They both knew of her promise to Margot, that she would stay until she was no longer needed, although they didn't know of the time scale Buffy herself had put on that.

Emily kicked herself for not realising sooner. While, technically, Buffy wasn't needed so much as a Slayer, her importance as a friend would always mean she was necessary to their lives. Despite this, she knew that Buffy's grief over the loss of Spike was as real as the day she lost him. They all missed him, but Buffy had always seemed like she was missing a part of herself. Oh, she had played the part, smiled in all the right places, said what needed to be said, but she never put all of herself into what she did, unless it was the Slaying, and then, Emily had always worried that Buffy would do something deliberately reckless on purpose.

As they all gathered their belongings together, she, Alasdair and Grianne debated where she might have gone. It was apparent to them all now what she planned, they just didn't know the where or the how.

Alasdair thought she'd be heading back to Sunnydale. That had, after all, been her home, where she'd first met Spike. Grianne considered London, the closest to a base Buffy had had since Spike was gone. Emily, on the other hand, argued that she had gone home. The others, remembering that Buffy hadn't been there in almost two years argued that she wouldn't have gone there, but Emily pressed her point, and, in the end, the others agreed to go with her instinct.

Leaving Josh and Sarah to do the clearing up, the other three got into Alasdair's car and headed for Loch Maree.

When they arrived, they were relieved to find Buffy's car outside, and rushed through the door. There was no sign of her, but neither was there a pile of dust, so they heaved a collective sigh of relief. They went back outside, and considered where she might have gone. Despite their immunity to sunlight, the two vampires could feel the imminence of the dawn, and they knew, instinctively, that they had to find her before then. Therefore, they split up, Alasdair and Grianne heading along the lochside in one direction, and Emily the other.

Buffy sat on the edge of the rock, looking out into the loch. This had been a favourite spot, one where she and Spike had spent a lot of time together. She could almost feel him close as she sat here, but the lack of contact was a constant reminder that he was not. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks as she waited for the sun to rise. She wasn't afraid. She just hoped, that, whatever happened when her body turned to dust, she'd see him again.

Slowly, she felt the sun rise behind her. She kept facing the water, unwilling to take her eyes off it as it glittered brighter and brighter. She was soon aware of the warmth of the sun at her back, and turned to check on the sun's progress. There was no way she couldn't be burning now, and yet, she wasn't. She turned her mind back to the dozens of times Emily had offered her the gift of her blood and with it resistance to sunlight, and the equal number of times she had refused the offer. Now it looked as though, when Emily had eventually stopped asking, it was because she had taken matters into her own hands. Emily must have added some of her own blood to the animal that Buffy drank routinely. She wondered how she had done it, sure that she would have noticed it, even in a mixture.

So, that particular avenue was closed. It didn't really matter. There were some trees a few hundred yards back from the coastline. There were bound to be twigs and such, and there was sure to be one she could use as a stake.

She got up to go and look when she heard a voice from behind her.

"Buffy," the voice said, softly.

"Margot?" Buffy replied, spinning around. She had avoided all contact with the Phoenix since her return, leaving that to the others. She couldn't help but blame the strange, multicoloured bird for Spike's demise, even though she knew he was acting under conditions over which he had no control.

"I thought you'd prefer to talk to me in this form. At least in this form I was once able to do you a kindness."

Buffy nodded. "If you're here to stop me .."

"I just want to talk. If you still want to find a stake afterwards, I'll even help."

Another nod.

"This is my last day in this world too," she said, softly. "My job here is done, and I'll be assigned a new task. It's always hard to leave, but this time, it's harder than ever. The trial given to you and Spike was harder than I can ever remember. It was done because it was believed you had the strength to withstand it, as, indeed, you have proved. But, it was still cruel, and I'm sorry that I was the cause of such pain to you, albeit unwillingly."

Buffy couldn't speak. She could hate the Phoenix, but she couldn't bring herself to hate Margot. She knew it was illogical, but that's how it was. To hear Margot telling her she was sorry was almost unbearable.

"Buffy, the trial wasn't over the day you saw Spike turn to dust."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. The last part started then, and it ended when the sun rose a few moments ago. It's over now, and I'm happy to say, that yet again, you passed."

"Great, I passed. Now I'll just go and find that stake."

"Not yet. There is more. What you remember of the last few seconds of the first trial weren't exactly what happened."

Buffy looked at the older woman, desperately trying to understand this riddle. If it hadn't happened the way she remembered it, then what had happened?

"It didn't happen this way either, but let me tell you what Spike saw that day," Margot continued.

Now Buffy was really confused. She concentrated on Margot's words, desperate to try to make sense of them.

"Everything was as you remember it up until the moment Spike tried to save you. Then, from Spike's point of view, something happened to distract Angelus for a split second. You moved towards the knife, effectively pushing it part of the way into your chest. That allowed Spike to get away from the stake Angelus had pushed into his chest. As soon as Angelus realised what had happened, he pushed the knife the rest of the way into your heart as he had promised he would. You died in Spike's arms that day."

"Wait, what do you mean? I don't understand."

"I know it's difficult. The second part of the trial required that both of you give up your own wishes for a period of time for the greater good. You were both, in the otherwise identical realities in which you were placed, given the job of helping the New, and those she chose, to become independent. You both promised to fulfil that role. As of the battle yesterday, you had both achieved your task."

"You .. you mean, that in another world somewhere, Spike's still alive?"

"I do."

"But, he's made a life for himself, made another childe, and .."

"No, child, he's as alone as you have been. He has no more looked for a replacement for you that you have looked to replace him. As we speak, Jared is talking to him, telling him what I'm telling you now."

"But, can I go to him?"

"You can. We've arranged for the two realities to overlap for a few hours. Do you remember the cave where you used to swim?"

Buffy nodded. It was visible from where she had sat to await the sunrise, and was only a few moments away.

Margot looked at her one last time. "Go, then," she encouraged softly, but Buffy didn't hear. She was already scrambling down the steep incline to the beach below.

She ran as if every evil in the world was after her, but she paused as she entered the cave. She walked inside slowly, remembering the time they had spent there together. She had been tempted to visit it the night before, but had refrained, the memories of that particular place somehow too fresh and tinged with joy for her to deal with alone.

As she approached the pool where they swam, she saw him. The other side of the pool looked different. A moment's thought showed that it was, in fact, a mirror image of her side of the pool. He was approaching from the outside as she was. They both stood, immobile for a few seconds, almost unwilling to believe their eyes. Then, as one, they started to remove their clothes, dropping them randomly at the side of the pool as they did so. When both were naked, they dived into the water, two dives, like mirror images of one another.

They met in the centre of the pond. Their mouths collided in a kiss that said everything they couldn't say with words. They sank beneath the water, completely immersed, not just in the water, but in one another.

It was much later when they both returned to the cottage. They had had to share one lot of clothing because when they emerged from the pool, only Buffy's clothes remained. Fortunately, among those clothes was a large, long, leather coat, which, although a neat fit on Spike, did at least fit.

They were surprised to see Alasdair's car parked outside, and even more surprised to find Emily, Grianne and Alasdair sitting around their table, each with a glass of whisky in their hands, and an almost empty bottle in the centre of the table.

The three rather inebriated companions looked toward the doorway with expressions on their faces which would have made most onlookers smile. They were a mixture of shock, awe, and comical disbelief. 

When they had persuaded the others that they were real, their story was shared. Both Spike and Buffy had almost identical memories of the past few years, something that made the story easier to believe. When it was over, Emily gave a shuddering sigh of relief.

"At least I don't have to tell Giles now."

To the two heads turned in her direction, she smiled.

"We drew straws for who was going to tell him you'd waited for sunrise, and I lost. That's why the whisky seemed like such a good idea."

"But, Emily, the sunrise didn't affect me," Buffy said. "You must have given me some of your blood at some time."

"Buffy, I wanted to give you some blood, of course I did. But I'd never sneak it into your meals. I respected your wishes."

A glance at Alasdair confirmed he had done likewise.

"Then what?" both Buffy and Spike asked. He had had a similar experience and had jumped to the same conclusion.

"I think Margot might have done something," Buffy said. "But, what I want to know, is was it a one off thing, or are we actually immune to sunlight?"

"Don't know, Pet," he answered, kissing her softly on the cheek. "But, we'll find out later, shall we? Don't have any urge to be anywhere but here right now."

Buffy smiled her agreement at these words, and the others looked at one another before standing to take their leave.

"Can you drive?" Buffy asked. "I mean, all that whisky.."

"You should know by now the effect of vampire constitution on alcohol. It takes a lot to have any effect, and it doesn't last. I'll be fine by the time we've had a short walk along the beach," Alasdair reassured her.

With those words, Alasdair and Emily helped Grianne to the car. As a human, the alcohol was making her very sleepy, and they deposited her in the back of the car before taking one another's hand and beginning their walk.

Inside the croft, another two vampires had moved from the living room to the bedroom. Clothes were swiftly doffed, and the bed occupied. It seemed like it would be a long time before they would be ready to test out their sun-resistance, but it really didn't matter. They had forever.

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Ok, am I forgiven? At least I didn't keep you waiting, so Tuowei, I hope you haven't drawn blood to your tongue yet!

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed. I really do appreciate all comments, but special thanks must go to the aforementioned Tuowei. She's reviewed almost every chapter, and she's been on board since 'Gifts' first emerged on BS Central. Another reviewer of note is t_geyer, who always makes comments who made me think, and sometimes caused tweaks in the story.

I appreciate all positive comments, (naturally enough), but I also appreciate constructive criticism. So, if you haven't been in touch yet, please introduce yourself. Either review, or contact me direct – cryptic6464@yahoo.co.uk .

I'm going to concentrate on the Magpie series for a bit, but I have got another couple of ideas. One of those may not go up at ff.net, as I don't want to contribute to the current silliness known as 'ship wars'. Although the idea came from a B/X fan, it would probably be seen as inflammatory, even though it's not intended that way. If I go ahead, it'll go on my own site – . 


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